The Minister's Daughter by Hedwig76

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 04/05/2007
Last Updated: 21/06/2007
Status: In Progress

The UK's Prime Minister hires a special agent to look after his daughter while on a trip
abroad without her knowing about it. When they meet, he helps her discover a part of her life she
had no idea existed, magic! AU fic, based on the movie "Chasing Liberty."




1. Extra Security
-----------------

***Disclaimer:** Not mine, not even the plot.*

***A/N:** After a little over a year, I’m back with another AU story. I’ve been reading
fics that some of you have posted and I’ve come across some really good stuff. Before moving on to
the first installment of this new piece, I want to take the opportunity to thank two people that
put two of my stories down in the rec list: **littlesuperHHRfan113** and
**aquamarineCrystal.** Thanks a lot.*

*Also, **BIG** thanks to my wonderful beta **Lisa**, her help is priceless. She’s the
best!! J*

……………………………….............................................

1. Extra Security

On a sunny summer day, a group of news-craving photographers were blocking the entrance to the
British Library. The reason… twenty-year old Hermione Granger, the Prime Minister’s daughter, had
attended a special ceremony to present a large donation of children’s books made by her father.

The brown haired, brown eyed girl walked to the luxury car waiting for her, escorted by her two
personal MI6 guards amidst the cameras’ blinding flashes. Hermione, however, was used to all
that.

Her father had become the UK’s Prime Minister when she was just 14 years old. Even before that,
her father had always been a public figure in the world of politics. Since her mother died when she
was ten, Hermione had to step up and take the place her mother would have once she became of
age.

Charity events, art exhibits, formal dinners, special events at Buckingham Palace, among other
highly important events were usual for her. She was used to the protocol of the royal family and
the bureaucracy of the government.

Always surrounded by at least a couple of secret agents, she had grown up in the public’s eye.
Her father was a conservative man and had always tried to pass his old-fashioned ideas to his
daughter. Hermione, however, was more open minded than he, but the love she felt for her father had
always kept her from holding discussions around those topics with him.

She had always tried to please him within her possibilities. She had attended the boarding
school of his choice. Even now that she was a student at Oxford University, she was enrolled in
Political Sciences, as her father always dreamed. Hermione deeply admired her father’s passion for
his work, putting all of his heart in what he did.

After she climbed into the backseat, Katherine Williams and Maurice Parker, her two personal
guards, got in the car with her. Kath, as Hermione called her, in the backseat with her and Maurice
in the front along with the driver.

As the car sped towards Number 10 Downing Street, a smile appeared on Hermione’s face. She was
anxiously waiting for the next two days to fly away as fast as possible. For the first time since
her father had become the Prime Minister, Hermione was going to take a real vacation.

To her, all those summers spent at the country house of Chequers in Buckinghamshire did not
qualify as vacations. She longed for the normal life a regular citizen would enjoy. Being under her
father and his team of guards’ surveillance was no fun at all.

She was never allowed to do anything too dangerous, too risky or too compromising. She had an
image to protect, her father always reminded her, and with that came specific responsibilities.

Still, even when she was surrounded by people all day long, she couldn’t help feeling a bit
lonely.

Her father didn’t have much time to spend with her. On a few occasions, she had accompanied him
to his diplomatic trips, but he was always so busy attending important meetings. Besides, the trips
weren’t as fun as one could guess. After all, how much can you really get to know a city from a
hotel’s balcony?

In two days time, she was to accompany her father in another one of these diplomatic trips
abroad. This time, however, it would be different. For the first time in her life she’d be visiting
America, the new world. Both she and her father would have three days full of special events to
attend, of course.

But her father had promised that after those events were finished, she’d be allowed to have a
week and a half of her own in the foreign country. The first two days of the trip were to be spent
in Washington, D.C., the nation’s capital. After that, they were due in New York City to be part of
the grand opening of an art exhibit of British painters and sculptors in the Metropolitan Museum of
Art.

Once the event was finished, the Minister would be returning to London while Hermione would be
staying back on her own – meaning with Katherine and Maurice. Ms. Warrington, Hermione’s chaperon,
was to stay at her side as well.

To Hermione that was as much liberty as she could get. Usually, when traveling aboard a team of
agents would escort her besides the usual dozen people, agents and staff, which were always
present.

As the car parked right in front of Number 10, Hermione quickly got out and walked into the
building. She headed to her father’s office so he could see she was back safe and sound. Without
knocking, she opened the door and peeked inside.

Her father was revising some documents along with his personal secretary. Noticing that the door
had been opened, he turned in that direction to find the smiling face of his daughter. She blew him
a kiss and waved at him. A warm smile greeted her back. She then closed the door and went straight
to her bedroom.

Grabbing hold of one of the many New York City traveling guides she had bought, she jumped in
bed, laid flat in her stomach, and started flipping through the pages. She had read those guides
quite a few times; she already knew them by heart.

Hermione was more than anxious to get to the American nation and see with her own eyes all those
interesting places.

……………………………………………..

Downstairs, the Prime Minister was having doubts about their upcoming trip. In the last few
weeks, several attacks had been taking place in the Middle East. Even when the incidents didn’t
seem related to the English Kingdom, in every single attack British citizens had ended up
injured.

Reporters, tourists, contractors, or regular citizens always showed up among the casualties.
Their presence at the area where the attack had taken place appeared to be coincidence, but that
didn’t satisfy the Minister.

“We need to do something, Thompson,” said the Minister to his secretary. “I can’t take my
daughter onto foreign soil without the warranty of her safety.”

“Our agents are quite capable, sir,” Thompson replied. “Besides, we will make use of our best
people to escort you as we always do.”

Richard Granger started pacing around his office. “I know that Thompson. I trust the capability
of our agents, but I have this feeling…”

“What if we cancel the trip, sir?” suggested Thompson.

Mr. Granger seemed to give it some thought, but he immediately shook his head in denial. “Can’t
do that! You know I am to attend a couple of highly important meetings that may even help us figure
out a solution to all this… Middle East problem. Besides,” he added turning to face his secretary.
“It’s not a good thing to cancel such a trip at this point. It’d seem as an affront to the American
President.”

As if having a sudden idea, the secretary stood up. “We could ask for assistance from the
President. He could lend us some of his agents.”

“Of course not!” quickly spat Mr. Granger. “I would never ask for this type of help to another
ruler. If we are to have extra security, it has to be from our own people. I certainly will not let
the President think we can’t take care of ourselves.”

“Yes, yes, sir,” agreed Thompson apologetically, sorry to have suggested such idea. “You’re
right, sir. Of course!”

The Minister continued to pace around the room, rubbing his hands desperately, trying to force
his mind into a way of solving the matter.

“We could…” started Thompson, afraid to open his mouth again. “Not bring Ms. Granger along.”

With a saddened look in his face, Mr. Granger stared at the wall. “I have thought about that,
but I know how excited she is about this trip. I wouldn’t fancy telling her she is not to
come.”

Suddenly, his face illuminated as he thought of something. “Well…I could try... that,” he
whispered, talking to himself. The secretary looked questioningly at him, but was startled when Mr.
Granger turned around and walked to his desk. “Give me a few minutes, Thompson.”

Thompson, shocked for the sudden change of attitude, didn’t move but his eyes remained focused
on the Minister’s face.

“Thompson!” called the Minister. “Would you mind?”

Hurriedly, the secretary walked to the door. “I’ll… I’ll be outside, sir,” he said. Then, he
left the room, closing the door behind him.

Mr. Granger waited for the door to be closed. Then, he sat down on his high upholstered chair.
Slowly, he placed his right hand over the inner pocket of his black coat as if trying to gather all
of his courage.

Seconds later, he pulled open his coat and took a silver ring out of his inner pocket. The ring
held together two little silver keys. The Minister stared at the keys for a while. Taking a deep
breath, he turned to the left side of his desk.

Using one of the keys, he unlocked the bottommost drawer. Several folders labeled “Top Secret”
or “Highly Confidential” lay within. He took them out and placed them aside. With a look of
uncertainty, as if doubting himself, his eyes focused on the drawer’s wooden bottom.

His hand reached to it and easily pulled it out to reveal a double bottom. Slowly, he pulled out
a black metal lock box from the drawer’s secret hiding place. The second key unlocked the metal
box. Inside it, there was a large brown envelope with a label attached to it.

“USE ONLY IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.”

Taking a look around, as if checking nobody was watching, he opened the envelope. Out came a
single piece of paper with a few lines written. Mr. Granger’s eyes run over them several times,
trying to take in every word.

“*It doesn’t seem too complicated*,” he thought.

He passed a hand over his perfectly combed brown hair, the same shade as Hermione’s. Holding the
paper firmly in his hands, he took a couple deep breaths and turned his face towards the far corner
of his office.

His eyes laid on an old oil painting that hung from the wall. That particular painting, which
the Minister thought was rather ugly, had been in the office for ages. Several previous Ministers
had tried to get rid of it, but there had been no human power able to take that painting off the
wall.

Taking a last look at the paper in his hands, the Prime Minister stood up and, very slowly,
walked towards the old painting. A little froglike man, wearing a long silver wig, stared back at
him. Indeed, the Minister had felt as if the man in the painting actually followed his movements
with his eyes. But… paintings don’t do that, right?

Feeling he was acting against his better judgment, Mr. Granger cast a last look around,
confirming he was alone in his office. Finally, he took a deep breath and, very softly, spoke.

“Uh, excuse me?” Mr. Granger said. “I’d like a word… with the Minister of… Magic?” As he was
saying that, his mind couldn’t help to notice how stupidly embarrassing it would be if anybody were
to see him talking to a painting.

At first, Mr. Granger thought it had either not worked or the paper was, as he had suspected
before, a joke, for the man in the painting remained silent for a while. Suddenly, Mr. Granger
froze as he realized the froglike man had just blinked. Then, a crisp decisive voice was heard.

“The Minister’s just finishing up a meeting with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous
Creatures. He should come by your office as soon as the meeting adjourns,” the man in the painting
said, as if he had been reading a prepared statement.

Mr. Granger’s mind took a couple of minutes to process that information as several questions
popped in as well. “*He does exist? Disposal of dangerous creatures? My office!?*”

His mind finally slowed down and ordered his mouth to open and generate a few words.

“Good…” he said softly, not sure if in fact it was that good. “Thank you,” he finally added,
perplexed to see that not only the Minister of Magic did actually existed, but also that the
painting had replied to him.

To increase his astonishment, the little man bowed his head before resuming his previous
statue-like pose.

Passing a hand through his sweaty forehead, Mr. Granger thought “*I need a few days
off*.”

…………………………………….

About ten minutes after arranging a meeting with someone he had always doubted existed in the
weirdest way imaginable, something equally amazing happened. The office’s fireplace ignited on its
own. The flames, however, were a bright shade of green.

Mr. Granger stared at the flames holding tight the arms of his upholstered chair, where he was
sitting. Seconds later, a tall, redheaded man, dressed in a dark green suit with a matching green
cloak over his shoulders walked out of the fireplace. A chubby man was trailing behind him.

“Prime Minister!” greeted the redhead man as he walked towards the handsome desk, his hand
stretched out. “What a pleasure to meet you! Arthur Weasley at your service,” he said, introducing
himself. After Mr. Granger shook his hand, speechless, Mr. Weasley introduced his companion. “Mr.
Carl Leland, my assistant.” The alluded raised the pointed hat that had been covering his balding
head as he greeted.

“So,” said Mr. Weasley, breaking the silence. “A received a message saying you wanted to see
me.”

Clearing his throat loudly, Mr. Granger spoke for the first time since the arrival of the two
men before him. “Uh, yes! I do,” he beckoned the two men to sit on the chairs in front of his desk.
“I wonder if… you could be of some assistance in a very sensitive matter.”

Once he was able to regain himself, Mr. Granger explained the situation and the importance of
the trip abroad he and his daughter were to take in a couple of days. “If you’re a father, then you
must understand that my daughter’s safety is my highest priority.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Weasley replied. “I’m the proud father of seven wonderful children and can
totally understand your concern.”

“*Seven?*” thought Mr. Granger amazed. Pushing that thought aside, he forced his mind to
focus. “You think you could provide some extra security for my daughter, then?”

“Of course! We’ll be honored to help and I know the right man for the job.”

“A… one man?” asked Mr. Granger surprised. “I was thinking about a team of people.”

"Oh no!" Mr. Weasley replied nonchalantly. "Not necessary. My Auror is worth one
hundred men."

"Auror?" wondered Mr. Granger.

"What you could call a highly specialized secret agent," added Leland quickly.

"I see. And, is this... Auror of yours trustworthy?"

"Totally!" quickly replied Mr. Weasley. "The best there is. He singled-handedly
defeated the most powerful dark wizard there's ever been when he was only seventeen."

Once again, a rain of questions flooded the Prime Minister's mind. But this time he had a
feeling that told him it was best not to know. "Aright, then," he said after a while.
"How can I contact him?"

"I will talk to him personally tonight to fill him in, but... I should also give you
this..." Then facing Leland, we asked his assistant, "Got a spare bit of
parchment?"

Leland quickly pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to Mr. Weasley, who, taking
his wand out, tapped the parchment with it. Mr. Granger watched amazed at the words than suddenly
appeared in it.

"His name is Harry Potter," he said as he extended the parchment towards Mr. Granger.
"And that's his phony number."

Quickly, Leland leaned towards Mr. Weasley and whispered something in his ear as Mr. Granger
stared at them with his mouth hanging open.

"I mean, his phone number," Mr. Weasley corrected. "You know, one of those you
muggles carry around in your pockets."

"Oh! A mobile phone?" said Mr. Granger.

"Yeah, yeah. One of those."

"Just one more thing," added Mr. Granger as he stood up. "Your man is not to
interfere unless needed. Otherwise, he's not to make contact with my daughter."

"Of course, Minister," said Mr. Weasley as he stood up as well. "I understand.
Leland..." he said, talking to his assistant. "Hand me a galleon."

"A galleon, sir?" asked Leland questioningly.

"Yes, Leland. A galleon."

Mr. Granger looked at the pair curious as to what a galleon could be. He was relieved to see
that Leland was handing Mr. Weasley a gold coin. Taking his wand out once more, Mr. Weasley tapped
the coin with in. Slowly, the coin hovered for a second in midair.

The Prime Minister's eyes grew wide open and his jaw felt to the floor as he saw the gold
coin gradually turning into a shiny gold necklace with a small heart pendant hanging from it.

When the galleon-turned-into-necklace fell back onto Mr. Weasley's hand, he gave it one last
tap. Immediately, a tiny white stone appeared in the center of the golden heart. Finally, he handed
it to Mr. Granger.

"Make sure your daughter wears this all the time," he said as if turning coins into
something else were the most common thing.

Mr. Granger, amazed by the bit of magic he had just witnessed, took the necklace in his open
hand, half expecting it to explode at any moment. "Wh... what's this?" he managed to
say.

"Oh!" said Mr. Weasley, realizing he had forgotten to explain that bit to the Prime
Minister. "It’s a locator. We will be able to spot Ms. Granger's location at any time as
long as she's wearing it."

Mr. Granger stared at the necklace for a while, not sure whether he should actually have
Hermione wear it. He sighed deeply, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Fine."

"Good!" said Mr. Weasley cheerfully. "Once again, a real honor Minister," he
said, shaking furiously the Prime Minister's hand. Once he let go, Mr. Weasley headed to the
fireplace.

With hurried steps, Leland got there first, quickly throwing Floo powder into the fireplace.
Saying good bye with a solemn bow of his head, Leland stepped into the green flames and disappeared
out of sight.

"We'll be in contact," said Mr. Weasley before following Leland into the depths of
the green flames.

................................

The following day seemed to fly away as last minute details were taken care of. Finally, the
hour to go had arrived. Hermione’s luggage had been ready for almost three days, but at the last
minute, she had decided to add a couple of books and a few extra items.

“What do you need so many books for?” asked her father as he walked into her room.

“To read, of course,” she said, trying to stuff them all in one book bag. “It’s going to be a
long flight,” she reminded him.

The Minister smiled warmly at his daughter. Placing a hand over his pocket, he felt the necklace
he was supposed to give her. “Sweetheart,” he said, sitting down at her bed and pulling her hand to
make her sit beside him. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”

With a curious look on her face, she shifted around in her bed so she could face her father.

The previous night, Mr. Granger had forced his brain to come up with a good excuse for giving
her a necklace when it wasn’t her birthday or any other special day. He had never been the kind of
father who would shower her daughter with presents, other than at her birthdays or Christmas, and
he didn’t want her to suspect a thing.

Besides he needed to make sure that she would always wear the necklace. It wouldn’t help much if
she’d put it away in a jewelry box. Finally, a brilliant idea, or at least he thought it was
brilliant, came to him.

“I know how much you’ve missed your mum since she left us. Believe me, I miss her too,” he said
in a soft voice. “That’s why I decided to give you something very special.” His voice was breaking
up a bit, suddenly feeling the weight of the big lie he was about to tell her.

Hermione thought that his shaking voice was due to how much he missed his wife. Trying to
comfort him at the same time she sought comfort for herself, she placed a hand over his.

Pulling the necklace out of his pocket, he extended it out to her. “I want you to have this,” he
said, his voice barely audible. “It was… your mum’s,” he said, not looking at her. “She was quite
fond of it.”

Hermione looked at the jewel in her hand and tried to remember her mother wearing it, but she
couldn’t find one image in her memories of that necklace. Mr. Granger quickly saw the questioning
look on her face and guessed what was going through his daughter’s mind.

“She only used to wear it on special occasions,” he quickly added. “You may not even remember
it. She wanted to make sure it would last until you were old enough to have it. She always thought
of giving it to you some day.”

Mr. Granger’s words seemed to convince Hermione. With a small smile on her face, she admired the
necklace. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and the tiny stone in the little heart shined so
intensely. Hermione had never seen something shine like that before. With tenderness, she brought
the necklace up to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the tiny heart.

Her father sighed, reminding himself that this was for Hermione’s safety, while silently asking
his wife for forgiveness. Lovingly, he took the necklace from her hands and motioned her to turn
around.

Hermione did it and seconds later she felt the cool gold necklace touching her skin. She looked
down at it. Quickly, she stood up and went to the mirror to have a better look. She smiled as she
noticed how the stone shined with the sunlight that came through her window.

Standing up, her father walked to the door. “You ready, then?” he asked, trying to get her
attention away from the mirror. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”

Hermione nodded happily. “I’ll be right down,” she said. She took one last look at her
reflection. “Well mum,” she whispered. “Let’s see what new things await us in the new world.”



2. The New World
----------------

2. The New World

The long flight to Washington, D.C. had been tiring. Hermione was glad she had remembered to
pack some books. Thanks to that, she had at least spent those long hours doing something good,
which could not be said for Maurice. He had slept most of the time. Even when he was two rows
behind Hermione, she could clearly hear him snoring.

Their first two days in America, had been… well, mostly boring. Attending several gatherings
along with the first lady and her son, Daniel, who insisted on gluing himself to Hermione’s side,
and visiting some of the national monuments and memorials quickly lost the novelty flavor.

Perhaps if she had been allowed to visit those places on her own, she might actually have
enjoyed them, but the unwanted attention Daniel kept giving her was somewhat overwhelming and quite
tiresome. Sure, he was a handsome bloke, but he seemed so sure of himself and Hermione could not
stand his arrogant attitude.

Kath and Maurice followed her every move. She was used to that, but it seemed to Hermione they
were overdoing it this time. Although she didn’t always spot them, she knew there was a handful of
extra agents watching her as well.

It annoyed her that her father didn’t trust her. After all, she wasn’t useless. If she were
given a map of the city, she could get to all the places she wanted to visit on her own. Hermione
sighed resignedly, knowing perfectly well that would never happen.

On the morning of their third day in the foreign nation, Hermione woke up feeling a bit better.
Her excitement was back once again, as they were to fly to New York City in just a few hours.

The city’s extravagant mixture of culture, art, novelty, and contemporary style fascinated her.
Just one more day of putting up with the public events and she’d be free to enjoy her much longed
for vacation.

The event they’d be attending that night, however, promised to be far more interesting than the
ones she had been forced to put up with in Washington, D.C. Admiring the works of art of her fellow
citizens was much more appealing than hearing the annoying and highly unwanted compliments of the
President’s son.

As the private plane that took them to New York gave them a view of the Manhattan skyline,
Hermione felt her excitement building up on her stomach. Immediately after arrival, they were taken
to the City Mayor’s residence, where they were to have lunch.

Thinking about all the sight-seeing she’d be able to do in the following days, she was able to
smile politely during lunch, making her father proud of her good manners.

Finally, the event of the night was getting closer. Hermione, helped by Ms. Warrington, whose
room was connected to hers by an inside door, put on the elegant gown she was to wear to the event;
a long, soft lilac empire-waist dress hang graciously from her shoulders, nicely shaping her
slender figure. High, strappy heels gave her a couple more inches of height. Half of her brown
curls had been elegantly arranged in the back of her head, while the rest hang freely from
underneath the bun, cascading nicely to her bare back.

A small tiara shined from above her head. Besides that, the only other piece of jewelry she wore
was the golden necklace her father had given her before leaving London.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Contemporary Museum of Art. The black limousine that
drove them there stopped right at the foot of a long red carpet that led them to the main
entrance.

All of the city’s most important figures were present to witness the unveiling of such important
exhibit. A sea of reporters, photographers and TV cameras followed them down the red carpet. Things
were not that different inside the museum. A few especially chosen reporters had been invited to
cover the event.

After the big red ribbon had been cut, a long welcoming speech was given and a special toast to
the artists was made, Hermione was finally able to breathe freely. She started walking around the
hall, admiring the art being displayed and feeling proud that people from her homeland had been
able to create such beautiful pieces.

A strange feeling made her turn around. She could’ve sworn someone was watching her. She had
felt a strong gaze locked on her. She knew it wasn’t any of her guards. They were watching her a
few yards away and she, somehow, was already used to them looking after her.

No. This time it had felt different. Trying to ignore it, and strongly hoping that Daniel
wouldn’t make an appearance, she continued walking around. There was a splendid sculpture of a
mother holding a baby in her arms, a warm smile on her face.

Hermione instinctively placed her hand over the necklace around her neck, as she remembered her
own mother. Suddenly, she turned around as the feeling of someone watching her came over her once
more.

There in the back of the hall, leaning against a wall, stood the handsomest bloke she had ever
laid eyes on. He was wearing a black tuxedo and a heart-melting smile. She smiled back at him.

As his smile grew wider, she decided to walk up to him and introduce herself. But she had only
taken a step forward when a hand in her arm stopped her. She quickly turned her face to see who was
holding her back.

“Hermione,” her father spoke softly at her ear. “We should get going. I’m tired and I need to
get up early tomorrow. I’m flying back home, remember?”

“Just give me a minute, dad,” quickly said Hermione. Her eyes went back to the corner where she
had spotted the gorgeous bloke, but he was gone.

“Hermione…” her father pressed.

She strained her neck, trying to find him among the crowd, but he seemed to be gone. Hermione
sighed in frustration. “*That’s odd*,” she thought. “*How could he disappear so
quickly?*”

“We have to go!” said the Prime Minister a little more urgently.

“Fine! Let’s go,” she replied disappointedly. She had been so close to meeting the first person
that had really called her attention in that country.

………………………………...............

Dragging her feet tiredly, Hermione walked into the elevator with her father. Now that she had
sat in the car for a while, she realized she was tired, too. Placing a hand on her father‘s arm for
support, she bend over to remove her shoes.

“Hermione…” her father said. “You could just wait until you get into your room. Someone could
see you like that.”

“C’mon dad,” she replied tiredly. “Who cares if someone seems me barefoot? I don’t think that
would dissolute our diplomatic relations with this country.”

Not appreciating her joke, Mr. Granger gave her a warning look. To keep him form going on, she
placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Right then, the elevator opened. Mr. Granger walked his daughter
to her room and after kissing her good night, he walked into his own, right across the hallway.

Hermione walked in, closing the door behind her. She was glad the day was over. Her father
couldn’t have any complains. She had behaved appropriately; keeping the good image of the British
polite manners intact.

Wanting to wash her face and get ready for bed, she walked over to the bathroom. When she
stepped in, she found a young maid inside it.

“Oh! Hello miss,” the maid quickly said. “I came to leave some clean towels. I knew the room was
empty and decided to drop this for you. I usually don’t do this at night,” she said as she
continued arranging the white towels on the racks next to the bathtub. “But a guest arrived this
afternoon and she kept me so busy I couldn’t finish all my other things. She wanted me to iron and
hung every piece of clothing she brought.”

Hermione smiled at the young girl, who Hermione guessed should be about her age, and looked at
the pair of curious black eyes staring at her. The maid was a tall girl with cinnamon skin and
short straight dark hair.

“She’s staying here for three days and she brought along five huge suitcases. Five! I mean, what
does she need so many clothes for? How many times a day does she expects to change?”

Hermione chuckled, remembering she wasn’t a light packer either. At least, she hadn’t asked a
maid to iron and hung her clothes for her. The maid continued talking as she took several scented
soaps out of one of her apron's pockets. Hermione immediately liked the girl’s easy going
personality.

Soon after, the two of them were chatting animatedly. Hermione was sitting over the closed
toilet seat cover while Sarah, the maid, sat on the edge of the bathtub. Hermione’s hair hung
freely now as she had removed the pins that had held it in place and her face was now free of
make-up. Hermione found out that Sarah already knew who her father was.

“So,” said Sarah with a hint of mischief in her voice. “Have you got a chance to experience the
real New York?”

Hermione made a funny grunt, shaking her head. “No,” she replied. “We just got here today.
Besides, I don’t know what you mean by experiencing ‘the real’ New York.”

“Well, you got any plans for tonight?” asked Sarah in the same naughty way.

“Go to bed and get some rest,” quickly said Hermione.

The expression of disgust in Sarah’s face told her that was not the answer she expected. “C’mon!
There are better things to do than waste time sleeping.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked, her curiosity itching.

Lowering her voice a bit, as if the walls could hear, Sarah got closer to Hermione. “I know this
awesome underground club. It’s the best New York has to offer!” Hermione’s eyes shone as she
listened to her newest friend. “I’m going there tonight after I’m done with my shift here. You…
wanna come?”

Hermione opened her mouth. She knew perfectly well that if she were to talk to her father about
going to this underground club, he wouldn’t be that happy about it even if she were to arrive with
an army of agents escorting her.

“What do you say?” pressed Sarah. “Are you in?”

A sudden feeling of adventure mixed with rebellion started to creep inside Hermione. A result,
she reckoned, of Sarah’s influence. “*It’s just a club*,” Hermione thought. “*I’m sure
nothing bad will happen*.” She knew the ‘underground’ part of it could be a bit risky, but…
didn’t young people gather regularly in places like that? Sure she could join them and have some
fun, right?

After all, she had complied with her father’s expectations quite nicely the past few days. She
deserved to have some fun, didn’t she? Weren’t her vacations meant to start after the social events
were done? Well, they were done! She was free to enjoy herself from now until the end of next
week.

She could start making the most of it right now. Besides, sneaking out of the hotel, without
agents, without her father, without surveillance, sounded as such an appealing thing to do. She
could never have this opportunity again.

“*You won’t be going alone*,” Hermione said to herself. “*Sarah’s coming along and she
knows her way around*.”

After what seemed like an eternity to Sarah, Hermione turned to face her, a determined look on
her face. “Alright! I’ll come.” Just by saying those words, Hermione felt excited.

“Great!” said Sarah as she stood up. “I’m off in an hour,” she added looking at her wristwatch.
Hermione pulled Sarah's arm to see that by then it’d be 11 o’clock. An uneasy feeling started
to grow inside her, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Meet me outside the kitchen,” Sarah instructed her as she started heading towards the door.
“Don’t take the guests’ elevator. Take the one at the end of the hallway. Go to the first floor.
When you get off, go to your left and you’ll come to the kitchen's entrance. I’ll be waiting
for you there.”

Hermione nodded as she tried to memorize the information she had just been given.

“See you there exactly in an hour,” added Sarah just before walking out of the room. Hermione
remained rooted to the floor for a while, staring at the closed door. She couldn’t believe what she
had agreed to.

Remembering she was supposed to be ready in an hour, she ran back to the bathroom. Taking the
gown off, she quickly stepped into the shower. The hot water that massaged her body for about
fifteen minutes, gave Hermione her energy back. The tiredness of her body washed away with the
soap.

Covering her wet body with a bathrobe, she walked to the closet, trying to figure out what she
should wear. Just then, a soft knock came from Ms. Warrington’s door. Hurriedly, Hermione closed
the closet and jumped into bed.

“Come in,” she said, faking a sleepy voice.

Ms. Warrington came into the room. She was already wearing her long night gown, a night robe on
top of it. She looked questioningly at Hermione’s damp hair. “You took a shower?” she asked
incredulously. “You’ve never liked to take showers before bedtime.”

Looking down at her hands, Hermione replied to her. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I was just so
tired I thought a bath might help me get some rest. My feet were killing me,” she complained as she
massaged her toes. “You know I can’t stand for too long when I’m wearing shoes like those.”

A disapproving look came on Ms. Warrington’s face. She had been educated in a very old fashion
custom and always tried to force some of her ideas in Hermione. One of them was the importance of a
lady’s nice appearance.

“High heels shape your posture, give you an elegant walk, and are far more feminine than those
ugly, manly boots you usually wear,” Hermione had heard her say on more than a few occasions.

But Hermione was far from following Ms. Warrington’s advice. She preferred comfort over fashion.
If an item pleased her, she didn’t care whether it was feminine or not. Only when attending public
events, she’d dress a bit more formal than usual. But even those formal garments had her personal
easy going style.

Sighing resignedly, Ms. Warrington looked at the nice shoes carelessly thrown in the floor. She
walked over to them and picked them up. “Are you all set to go to bed then?” she asked as she
placed the shoes carefully inside their shoe box. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Hermione replied, forcing a yawn. “I just want to get some sleep.”

Ms. Warrington walked into Hermione’s bathroom after she spotted the gown lying on the floor.
She then folded it and placed it over a chair. “I’ll ask the maid to get it dry cleaned
tomorrow.”

“Sure,” said Hermione as she pulled the covers and sank underneath them. “Good night Ms.
Warrington,” she added, hoping for the woman to leave soon so she could start getting ready.

“Good night,” Ms. Warrington finally said. She went to the door that lead to her room, took one
last look at Hermione and then walked out. Once the door was closed behind her, Hermione sighed in
relief.

Quickly, trying not to make too much noise, she went back to her closet. Not paying much
attention to the garments she was pulling out, she hurriedly got dressed. A pair of black pants and
a blue top with thin spaghetti straps nicely covered her figure. A black leather jacket and a pair
of black, comfortable shoes gave her the last touch. Taking a look at her image in the mirror, she
decided to let her hair down. Finally, she added a bit of lip-gloss.

Grabbing her hand bag, she tip-toed to the door. Making as less noise as she cold, she pressed
her ear to the door, searching for any noises. Not hearing anything, she pulled the door just a bit
to take a peek.

At the same time she opened it, another door opened right across the hallway: The door to her
father’s room. Maurice was walking out of the room in reverse, giving his back to Hermione’s
door.

“Good night, sir,” he called as he was walking out.

Quickly Hermione closed the door and listened as Maurice’s steps faded away. She waited for a
few seconds, then she pulled the door open once again. The hallway was now deserted and silent.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked out scanning the hallway with her eyes. Hurriedly, she
took the opposite direction to where Maurice had gone and headed to the maids’ elevator.

As quickly as she could, she walked into the elevator and pushed the ‘close door’ button
repeatedly until the door finally slid closed. Once the elevator started descending, a gleeful grin
appeared on her face. Finally, the elevator stopped and the door slid aside. She took a look around
the hallway. To her joy, it was empty. She walked out and, as Sarah told her, headed to her
left.

Suddenly someone grabbed her arm and a rough voice was heard, “What are you doing down
here?”

Hermione knew her little freedom had been too good to be true. Feeling as if the floor
underneath her feet had suddenly disappeared, she turned around expecting to see one of the MI6
agents, or even a hotel employee.

Who she found staring at her was neither one nor the other. Instead, she came face to face with
Sarah. “Sarah! You scared the living daylights out of me.” Sarah’s jubilant laugh was heard through
the hallway. “Shh!” quickly said Hermione.

“Don’t worry,” said Sarah between giggles. “Everyone’s gone by now.”

“Yeah, but my dad’s agents could be around.”

“Oops!” she said, covering her mouth. “I forgot about your dad’s watchdogs.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Hermione asked. She was getting a little anxious and wanted to be
out of there as soon as possible.

“Let’s go, then!”

“Sarah?” Pulling Sarah’s arm, Hermione made her stop. “Do I…do I look alright?” she asked
looking down at her outfit to then compare it with Sarah’s. Sarah was wearing a pair of faded/torn
jeans and a matching jacket atop a bright yellow tank top.

After Sarah reassured her she looked just fine, Hermione allowed Sarah to guide her towards the
exit through a series of hallways used only by the employees. Finally, they reached the back door
and quickly walked out. Hermione immediately felt the night breeze hitting her face.

That seemed to bring back her courage. A naughty grin illuminated her face. Still, she wouldn’t
breathe freely until they were as far away from the hotel as possible. The same idea seemed to
cross Sarah’s mind as she pulled Hermione’s sleeve to the parking lot in front of them.

Sarah went straight to an old convertible Volkswagen beetle. She quickly unlocked the door, got
in and unlocked the passenger’s door to Hermione. Minutes later, they were speeding away.

……………………………….........

Sarah had only driven a few blocks when she suddenly pulled over. Hermione looked questioningly
at her. “Why do you stop?” she almost shouted at Sarah.

Smiling at her, Sarah reply nonchalantly, “Because… I can’t pull the top down while the car’s
moving!”

Hermione let out a sigh in relief. She watched as Sarah pulled down the car’s top. It fell with
a loud thud into the back. Hermione laughed as she saw Sarah waving around her below-the-ears brown
hair. “You ready to enjoy the best night of your life?” she asked Hermione.

“I certainly am!”

“Let’s have some fun, then,” Sarah yelled out. She continued driving her little car as she
whistled happily. Hermione smiled at her, enjoying the wind in her face. Her long curls were flying
behind them as they continued through the streets. Sarah turned the radio on and started singing
along a hip-hop song.

The scenery began to change as they left the nice Manhattan downtown area and headed towards the
city limits. Sarah took the car into an area that, in Hermione's opinion, didn’t seem to house
a club. Old buildings that appeared abandoned could be seen in almost every block.

Sarah, unaware of the look of concern in Hermione’s face, continued singing as if there was
nothing wrong with the neighborhood. Hermione was just about to ask Sarah if she was going in the
right direction, when the car finally stopped. Hermione looked around. She couldn’t see any neon
signs that would signal not even a dirty pub.

“Sarah?” Hermione said softly as she noticed Sarah had gotten out of the car and was placing the
top back up.

“Are you going to stay in the car?” asked Sarah teasingly. “We’re here! C’mon, get you cute
little butt out.”

Still not sure they were in the right place, Hermione finally stepped into the sidewalk. “I told
you it was an ‘underground’ club. It’s supposed to be in a place that warranties there’ll be no
unwanted guests.” Then, looking at Hermione’s puzzled expression, she added, “Like the cops!”

Hermione looked at her silently. Sarah, however, knew what was going on inside Hermione’s head.
“Don’t worry! They don’t do anything illegal.” She grabbed hold of Hermione’s arm and pulled her
forward. “Well, just one thing.”

“And what’s that?” asked Hermione afraid of what she could hear.

“Some underage drinking,” said Sarah as if that was not important. Hermione smiled. “Yeah,”
Sarah continued. “We’re not legally allowed to drink alcohol until we turn 21.”

“Really?” asked Hermione.

“I turned 21 last month, but I just love this place. All of my friends come here.”

They stopped outside what Hermione thought was an abandoned building that might even crumble to
pieces any moment. Sarah guided her to a dark side alley. Looking around to make sure nobody was
watching them, she walked over to the place where a bunch of garbage cans stood.

Just to the side of the trash cans, there was a hard to spot black wooden door. The door blended
easily with the darkness of the alley. Only those that already knew its location could easily find
it.

Sarah grabbed hold of its handle and pulled hard at the door, which seemed about to fall off of
its hinges. Once the door was dragged open, Hermione peeked inside to find a long darken hallway. A
single black light at the end of the hallway provided the only illumination.

Sarah walked in and pulled Hermione’s sleeve to make her walk in. After Hermione was finally
inside, Sarah pulled the door closed. They were quickly surrounded by darkness. “Just give it a
minute,” said Sarah reassuringly. “You’ll get used to the dark quickly.”

Seconds later, just as Sarah said it, Hermione was able to tell where the hallway ended. With
the familiarity gained after visiting that place way too many times, Sarah walked unperturbed down
the hall.

Several doors stood closed to the sides of the hallway. Sarah, however, walked straight without
giving them a second look. When they reached the end of the hallway, Hermione saw a set of stairs
descending into the depths of the building.

A small hallway waited at the end of the stairs and led them to yet another door. Sarah knocked
three times. Someone on the other side of the door replied with two long knocks. Then, Sarah
answered back with one long knock followed by three quick, short ones. A tall, wide man opened the
door for them and motioned them in.

“You ready to have the time of your life Hermione?” Sarah asked teasingly.

Hermione let out a sigh and smiled at her new friend. “I am.”



3. Girl's Night Out
-------------------

**A/N:** *I’m glad to see you guys are enjoying this fic. I see that you all have lots of
questions, but just bare with me for these beginning chapters. You’ll see where things are heading.
Hope you’ll enjoy!*

……………………………………………………….

3. Girl’s Night Out

Hermione’s eyes opened wide as she tried to get everything in with one look. What once was the
building’s basement had been turned into a dimly lit, loud, crammed-with-twirling-people club.

The neon lights Hermione had expected to see were all inside the club, providing most of the
illumination. Some of the neon signs advertised beer brands. Others simply displayed short phrases
like “Live Loud!” or what seemed to be the outline of a couple dancing.

Several small, round tables were placed at the right side of the club, with a long bar behind
them. A line of stools could be seen on the opposite side. Groups of people or couples sat in
there. The dance floor, which occupied most of the space, was crowded with people. Towards the back
wall, the D.J., along with all of his sound equipment, stood on a stage raised above the crowd.

Sarah pulled Hermione to the area where the tables sat. They had just barely stopped when a
funky looking guy walked up to them and asked Sarah to dance. “I’ll be back,” Sarah shouted over
the music and followed him quickly into the dance floor.

Hermione waved at her and smiled as she saw the guy’s weird dancing style. She took a deep
breath, still not believing she was actually there. She had finally gotten the courage to do what
she had thought about doing so many times before: sneak out.

She turned her head around, checking things out. As she spotted the bar behind her, she
remembered what Sarah said about underage drinking. A half smile appeared on her face. She was not
new to alcohol, although she had only been introduced to champagne and wine.

Thinking this might be a good time to try something different, she headed to the bar. As she was
walking, she saw the bunch of people yelling their orders to the two barmen, who didn’t seem to
have enough hands to get all the orders ready.

She stood there, behind the maddened people, watching them. When she finally decided to order a
drink, she tried to step forward, but it seemed that at least half of the people in the club had
decided to get drinks as well.

No mattered how hard she tried to reach the counter, people kept on pushing her aside and
cutting in before her. At that pace, she’d be lucky if she could get something to drink by that
time next week.

Her patience was nearing the breaking point when a huge guy stepped over her toes nearly
squashing them flat. She groaned both in pain and frustration, closing her fists tight. Right then,
a girl moved aside, leaving a clear path for Hermione.

Hurriedly, she walked forward and held the counter tightly to make sure nobody would push her
away. The problem now was getting the barmen’s attention. She raised her hand; she raised her
voice. Nothing seemed to work. Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she stared at the barman
closest to her.

As if feeling her gaze on him, the barman turned to her. He smiled and walked towards her.

“Hi, there!” he greeted. “What can I get you, babe?”

Hermione stared at him open mouthed for his sudden reaction. Since she was not saying anything,
a guy standing next to her took the opportunity to order his drink. The barman, however, stopped
him in mid sentence.

“Ladies first, you idiot!” he yelled at the guy.

Coming out of her reverie, Hermione ordered the first thing that came to her mind. “A beer?” she
said, in what sounded more like a question.

Seconds later, a mug was placed before her. “The best beer we got,” the barman told her. When
Hermione tried to pay him, he quickly shook his head. “It’s on the house!” he said, giving her his
biggest grin.

After mouthing a quick thanks to the barman, Hermione walked away. “*That was odd!*” she
thought. But she quickly forgot about it when she spotted Sarah dance-walking towards her.

“There you are!” Sarah said, once she was within hearing range. “Wait here. I’ll go get a drink
for myself.”

Less than five minutes later, Sarah came back, a mug in her hands. Hermione’s jaw hit the floor.
A grunting sound came out of her as she stared dumbstruck at the drink in Sarah’s hand. She
couldn’t believe Sarah had gotten it so quickly when it had taken her ages to do it.

“What?” asked Sarah after taking a sip of her beer.

Hermione shook her head. “Forget it,” she simply said.

After swallowing a bit more beer, Sarah raised her hand and waved it furiously. “My friends!”
she said after the liquid went down her throat. “C’mon! I want you to meet them.”

Without waiting for Hermione’s reply, Sarah took her hand and pulled her through the crowd until
they reached a table towards the back. A group of seven people sat around the tiny round table. An
almost empty bottle of tequila sat amidst several shot glasses. Sarah introduced Hermione to the
two girls and five guys sitting there. She was glad that Sarah introduced her to her friends as
‘Hermione‘, no titles attached, not even her last name.

Someone quickly pulled a chair for Hermione while Sarah opted for sitting in one of the guys’
lap. The guy sitting next to Hermione, who had been introduced as Prentiss, waved his hand to the
waiter and motioned him to bring another bottle to the table.

They were all chatting and laughing loudly. Most likely, it was the result of the now empty
bottle (Sarah had just emptied the remainders of the bottle into a shot glass). In one quick
movement, she emptied the glass down her throat. She made a raspy sound and quickly reached out for
a slice of lime from a bowl on the table.

Hermione stared at her for a while. After the shot of tequila, Sarah went back to her beer.

“So,” said Prentiss to Hermione. “Where are you from?”

As soon as he heard the word London, he started telling Hermione about a backpacking trip he had
taken to Europe with two of the guys sitting in front of them. Hermione got to hear some of the
adventures they went through when they had to interact with non-English speaking people.

His story was interrupted when a new bottle of tequila was placed on the table. Prentiss grabbed
two shot glasses and filled them up. “Here,” he said, taking Hermione’s mug from her hands and
giving her a shot glass instead.

She looked at the glass. It had lipstick marks on it. By the shade of it, it looked like the
girl Sarah was talking to had already used it.

“Bottoms up!” urged her Prentiss. Hermione turned the glass around to a spot that looked
lipstick free. She stared at the clear liquid. “*It doesn’t look too threatening*,” she
thought. “*Perhaps if I take one quick sip like Sarah, it may not be that bad*.”

With that idea in mind, she raised her hand and pushed the liquid into her mouth. The outcome,
however, was not what Hermione had expected. A burning sensation went down her throat as the liquid
ran slowly to her stomach.

Instinctively, Hermione shut her eyes tightly as they got watery. She almost spat some of her
drink into Prentiss’ face as she started coughing furiously. Laughing at her reaction, he slapped
her in the back, leaving Hermione rather sore.

“The first time is always the hardest,” Prentiss told her as he grabbed the glass from her hands
and refilled it. “Try again!” he suggested.

“Oh! I don’t know,” said Hermione hesitantly.

Somehow, the attention of all eight people at the table turned to her. Sarah and her friends
cheered Hermione on. “You can do it, Hermione!” shouted Sarah, still sitting on her friend’s
lap.

Taking one deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes and, once again, hurried the liquid down. Even
though she still felt the liquid burning her throat, she had to admit it hadn’t been as bad as the
first one.

This time, she had only coughed a couple times and her eyes were no longer watery. “Here!” said
Sarah, handing a piece of lime to Hermione. “This helps.”

Hermione took it and squeezed it into her mouth. The sour taste of the lime did seem to relieve
her throat. Minutes later, Prentiss pushed her mug, or at least she thought it was her mug, back
into her hand.

At least, she’d be able to say she had tried something different when she was back home.

………………………………....

Later that night, Ms. Warrington stirred in bed, suddenly feeling thirsty. Sleepily, she
stretched her hand out to the glass sitting on the nightstand. Because the room was dark and her
eyes were mostly closed, Ms. Warrington knocked the glass over before she could grab it.

The glass fell to the carpeted floor, spilling the water. “*Oh no!*” she thought. With a
sigh of frustration, she got up lazily and walked to the bathroom to grab some towels. When she was
returning to her bed, she noticed something.

A stream of light was coming from underneath the door that connected with Hermione’s room.

Ms. Warrington shook her head, turning to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 1:49 a.m.
It wasn’t the first time that Hermione had stayed up late reading. Ms. Warrington was about to go
back to bed when she decided against it. Quite often, Hermione would fall asleep with her book
still in her hands, which meant that the light stayed on all night long.

Dragging her feet, Ms. Warrington walked to the door and opened it. She turned to face the bed
and was surprised to find it empty. She went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. After waiting
for an answer that didn’t come, Ms. Warrington opened the door. Scattered in the floor were some of
the undergarments Hermione had taken off before her shower and a still damp towel.

Hermione had also left some items lying carelessly on the sink’s counter: her brush, make-up and
perfume. Ms. Warrington was puzzled by the mess. She remembered putting everything back into the
make-up case after Hermione had gotten ready for the event at the museum.

But the thing that worried her the most was the fact that Hermione was not in the hotel room.
Hurriedly, she left Hermione’s room and ran to Parker’s down the hall. She knocked furiously.
Seconds later, Parker opened the door, wearing his pajamas and peering sleepily at her .

“Ms. Granger’s gone!” she almost yelled at him. “Parker!” she said, placing a hand in his
shoulder and shaking him awake. “She’s gone! She’s not in her room.”

Finally, Parker’s mind processed the information. Without replying to the shouting woman before
him, he ran to the Prime Minister’s room. Parker knocked a couple of times and then stormed in the
room before the Minister could even open his eyes.

“Sir,” Parker started, but Ms. Warrington, who had ran after him, talked first.

“Miss Granger’s gone, sir! She’s not in her room.” The Minister’s eyes opened wide as he
listened to her. “I woke up and wanted to drink some water, but I spilled it. So, I went to get
some towels from the bathroom. That’s when I noticed light coming from her room. I walked in and…
she’s gone, sir.”

As Ms. Warrington said all that in one breath, Mr. Granger had gotten out of bed and thrown his
night robe over his pajamas. Parker, who now seemed quite awake, looked expectantly at him.

“Thank you for informing me, Ms. Warrington,” he said, trying his best not to show in his voice
the anxiety he was feeling. “You can go back to bed now. We’ll take care of it.”

Reluctantly, Ms. Warrington started heading back to her room. She wanted to be informed, but she
knew perfectly well that she was not entitled to question the Minister or his agents about their
moves.

After she closed the door behind them, Mr. Granger turned to Parker. “Get a team ready,” he
said, placing a hand in his back and steering him to the door. “Get dressed and come back here in
five minutes.”

Parker looked confusedly at his boss. Sure the Minister sounded and looked a bit stressed, but
he didn’t seem as upset as Parker expected he would be. This was the first time that Hermione had
disappeared like this. Besides, they were in a foreign country. Hermione didn’t know her way
around. Still, Maurice did as he was told.

When Mr. Granger was left alone in his room, he quickly pulled the little piece of parchment Mr.
Weasley had given him out of his coat. With trembling hands, he dialed the number written on
it.

After a couple of rings, someone at the other end of the phone answered.

“Potter?” the Minister asked. “My daughter’s missing. I want you to locate her immediately and,
as soon as you do, call Parker to inform him. Go after her, but do not approach her unless it’s
completely necessary.”

“Yes, Sir.” A reply came.

“Oh! And Potter,” Mr. Granger quickly added. “Make sure she’s safe and out of trouble.”

……………………………………….

Hermione’s cheeks hurt from so much laughing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had
laughed this much. Sarah’s friends turned out to be quite a funny lot. Five of them were now in the
dance floor, dancing together in one circle.

She had been invited to dance with them, but after a third shot of tequila she had started to
feel dizzy. The last thing she wanted was to fall flat on her face right in the middle of the dance
floor.

Besides Judith, the girl Hermione was talking to, a couple had remained at the table as they had
gotten into a frenzy snogging session. Judith had been telling Hermione all about her wonderful
boyfriend. Hermione couldn’t help to envy her. She wished that she had someone who cared for her
and loved her that much. Just then, she noticed something.

A tall man, dressed in a black suit, was scanning the club with his strong gaze while covering
his right ear with his hand, as if trying to hear a whisper. The sight of him caused her breathing
to accelerate. She knew that he was one of her father’s agents. Quickly, she scanned the rest of
the place as well.

There was another agent standing by the bar. He was not wearing the usual black suit, but he was
also doing the hand-in-the-ear thing and seemed to be talking to himself. Hermione was able to spot
two more agents, being Parker one of them.

Hermione stood up, but remained somewhat hunched so they wouldn’t see her. She said a quick ‘got
to go’ to Judith and walked hurriedly towards the dance floor to reach Sarah.

“They’ve found me,” she whispered in Sarah’s ear.

Sarah looked in the direction Hermione’s finger pointed at one of the agents. “What are you
going to do?” she asked.

Hermione’s mind was frantically trying to answer that question. She didn’t fancy being found by
the agents and escorted out, as some kind of criminal. Seconds later, something clicked in her
mind.

“I have an idea!” she said. “But I’m going to need your help.”

……………………………………………

Harry Potter Apparated outside the old, crumbling building. His well-trained eyes scanned his
surroundings. The area seemed quite deserted. Taking his wand out of his inner pocket, he murmured
a spell.

A tiny sphere of light that could easily be mistaken for a firefly appeared before him, hovering
at midair. The locator glided around for a while without a precise direction, as if searching.
Suddenly, it stopped.

Seconds later, it started to move again. This time, however, it seemed to have a direction.
Harry followed it. The locator guided him to a side alley and straight to a camouflaged door. Just
before opening the door, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over his head. It had been kept in the
backpack hanging from Harry's shoulders.

The locator got in first and guided Harry through the hall, down the stairs and to the last
door. In an instant, the locator dissolved away. After Harry whispered ‘Alohomora’, the door
opened. He hurried in as the big guy who guarded the entrance stared blankly at the door. Not sure
of what had happened, the guard closed it and went back to his drink.

Taking care not to bump into anybody, Harry moved through the crowd. He spotted an empty chair,
walked towards it and stepped on it. From there, he searched the crowd, looking for the reason he’d
had to get up this late.

As his green eyes scanned the area, he noticed the agents scattered through the crowd.
“*Brilliant!*” he thought sarcastically, looking at the black suited men. “*They sure are
great at blending in*.”

Soon after, he saw her. She and another girl, Harry had no idea who she was, were leaving the
dance floor. Harry realized Hermione had also seen the agents. She was trying to hunch while
walking and looked from one agent to the other, probably making sure they wouldn’t see her.

Following the two girls with his eyes, Harry saw them walking towards the bathroom. Harry’s mind
quickly figured out what they were about to do. Quickly, he got down from the chair and went back
to the door. He pulled it open and walked out, leaving behind a very confused guard.

…………………………………………………..

Sarah and Hermione ran towards the bathroom. Trying to get in quickly, they didn't notice
two girls walking out. Inevitably, they bumped into them causing one of the girls, who seemed to be
quite drunk, to start laughing loudly, calling a lot of attention.

Hermione looked back just in time to see that one of the agents had spotted her. Hurriedly, she
ran into the bathroom. Hermione ran to the narrow window in the back wall. Because the club was in
the building’s basement, the window was seven feet high.

Sarah joined her hands and leaned forward to give Hermione a push up. Fortunately, the window
didn’t give her much trouble when she pushed it open. With Sarah’s help, and some strength she
didn’t know she had, Hermione pulled herself up and through the small window.

As she was crawling out into the back alley, she was able to hear a few girls yelling at a man
that wanted to get inside the bathroom. Hermione knew perfectly well that the man was looking for
her.

Once she stood up, she realized she was in the back of the building. Trying to get away and hide
somewhere, Hermione ran as fast as she could.

………………………………………..

As soon as Harry was out of the building, he took off his cloak and threw it inside his
backpack. Trying to guess where Hermione would be coming out, he walked towards the front of the
building.

Then, an idea came to his mind. He turned around, looking up and down the street. His eyes found
what he had hoped to find. He ran across the street where a black motorcycle was chained to a
street sign.

Taking his wand out, he quickly got rid of the chain. He was just removing it when he heard
running footsteps behind him. He turned around and came face to face with Hermione Granger.

Hermione froze on the spot. There, standing in front of her, was the handsome bloke she had seen
the night before in the museum. He was now wearing blue jeans, a white tee and a worn-out leather
jacket. His lovely raven hair was all messy, but it looked so darn cute on him. She had to admit
that, no matter what he was wearing, he looked good enough to eat.

Harry smiled at her, trying to gain her trust, although he suspected that was not going to be a
problem.

Looking at his heart-melting smile, Hermione almost forgot she was running away. Her legs
trembled a bit. Whether due to the alcohol she had consumed or the effect he was having on her,
Hermione didn’t know.

“Hello,” he said, trying to make her talk. He was sure the agents would come out any minute.

“This may sound rather odd…” she started saying without even replying to his greeting. “But I
was wondering if…”

She suddenly stopped as she heard the building’s front door opened and a pair of agents walked
out, just as another one came running from behind the building.

Quickly, Harry climbed in the motorcycle. “C’mon!” he said.

Throwing all rational thought aside, Hermione quickly climbed on behind him and held on to his
waist. Hoping Hermione wouldn’t notice, Harry tapped the bike with his wand and it quickly turned
on.

Just as the agents were about to reach them, Harry sped off with the Prime Minister’s daughter
tightly pressed to his back.



4. Getting Away
---------------

4. Getting Away

Hermione and Harry sped down the street on the motorcycle. He had to admit that these bikes were
worth the trouble. They could never be compared to his firebolt, but they still provided quite an
adrenaline rush.

Two black cars were trailing behind them. Harry was doing a good job at keeping them at bay. He
was making sudden turns in the opposite direction, going through narrow alleys, or driving on
sidewalks.

Hermione was beginning to feel anxious. At first, running away with a stranger – a handsome one
no less – on his motorbike had been quite exciting. Snuggling with such a muscular, yummy bloke,
with the perfect excuse of holding on to keep from falling off, was more than she could ask
for.

But the agents were not giving up.

Hermione turned her face to throw an angry look at them. She wished she could make them…
disappear or something. Just then, she spotted several trashcans at the edge of the sidewalk. She
smiled wickedly, thinking how brilliantly funny it’d be if the trash cans would just fall over
and…

Hermione’s mind froze as she saw the cans falling down, just as she had hoped. It happened so
suddenly that the agents didn’t see it coming. The cans rolled into the street and obstructed their
way. The first car collided with an old car that was coming in the opposite direction as the driver
tried to avoid the garbage cans.

The second car of agents couldn’t continue after them since the two crashed cars and the garbage
cans were blocking the street.

When Harry heard the sound of tires screeching, he turned to see what had happened. He stopped
the bike and stood up to take a better look. “*That’s weird*,” he thought. He remembered
passing the trashcans. There had been nothing wrong with them, and there had been no one around to
push them.

Hermione, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She was shouting and punching the air at the same
time, inevitably calling the attention of the agents.

“Brilliant!” said Harry sarcastically as the agents from the second car started running towards
them. He quickly sat back on the bike and sped off with Hermione once again. This time, however,
the agents could do nothing, but see them drive away.

…………………………….

The Prime Minister was anxiously pacing his hotel room. Several wild ideas had swirled around in
his mind for a while: thoughts of Hermione being abducted by evil, heartless terrorists. He waited
impatiently for the phone to ring. His agents were supposed to keep him informed, and he felt
tortured as minutes passed without him knowing what was happening.

Just then, the phone rang. For one second, Mr. Granger thought that perhaps the abductors were
calling to claim ransom, but he quickly shook that idea off. Thompson answered the phone. He had
arrived at the Minister’s room minutes after the agents left. Thompson handed the phone to him.

“It’s Parker,” he informed Mr. Granger.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the phone and listened intently to what Parker had to say. “An
underground club!” exclaimed Mr. Granger. “I can’t believe it!” Once again, he resumed his
pacing.

“She what!” he said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Are you telling me that my daughter ran
away with a stranger?” He listened to Parker’s reply and quickly added, “Try to find Potter and
bring her back here immediately!”

After that, he hung up the phone with one strong movement.

Thompson didn’t dare speak for a while as he saw Mr. Granger fume. Gradually, his expression
shifted to one of worry and concern.

Thompson assumed this was a safe time to speak. After a deep breath, he decided to risk it.
“Sir,” he said, testing the waters. Mr. Granger turned to him expectantly. Thompson swallowed hard,
doubting if he should voice his thoughts.

“What is it?” pressed the Minister.

“Well, Sir,” he started in a soft voice. “You know your daughter’s a very intelligent young
lady. I’m sure this is all just some little… crazy thing.”

“Little crazy thing?” Mr. Granger repeated. “She went to an underground club! She ran away with
a stranger!”

“Yeah, but Sir,” continued Thompson. “I’m sure she was only trying to get away from the agents.”
Mr. Granger looked at him questioningly. “You see, Sir, when a young person like your daughter has
lived most of her adolescence under the close watch of a team of people, they’re bound to rebel at
some point.”

“Are you saying that my daughter has turned into some kind of hooligan because of the security
in place to ensure her safety?” asked Mr. Granger in a rather upset tone.

“What I’m trying to say, Sir,” continued Thompson, amazing even himself with his boldness. “…is
that Ms. Granger has always been on her best behavior. She’s always taken care of her
responsibilities in a mature way. I’m sure she’ll see the wrongness of her behavior and come back
to the hotel on her own.”

Mr. Granger seemed to be giving it some thought. Thompson was right. Hermione had always been a
responsible and mature young girl. Always doing everything by the book! Perhaps Thompson was
right…

But if that was the case, he did have some fault in all this. “I never gave her the opportunity
to live a normal adolescence,” he said out loud. “She wasn’t able to do the thing kids her own age
do.”

Then, Mr. Granger heard another voice in his head – the Prime Minister’s voice. “But, Thompson,
she’s exposed to risks regular kids don’t have to worry about. Besides, we’re in a foreign nation.
She doesn’t know her way around the city.”

“I agree with you, Sir,” Thompson said. “It’s not easy to find a balance between her two roles:
being a young woman and being the Prime Minister’s daughter.”

Thompson’s words echoed in Mr. Granger’s head for several minutes.

………………………………………………….

The night’s air blew through Hermione’s brown curls, making them fly as they sped through the
streets of New York, causing her to experience a sense of freedom she had never enjoyed before.

“I can’t believe it!” she said. “I’M FREE!” she shouted as she let go of Harry’s waist and
extended her arms out.

“If you don’t want to be a free dead girl,” called Harry over his shoulder. “…you’d better hold
on.”

Hermione laughed loudly but did as she was told. Her hands went back to him – though this time
she placed them on his shoulders. “I can’t believe it!” she repeated. “We got away!” She continued
laughing and shouting excitedly.

Harry drove for a few more blocks, amused by her excitement. Then, he pulled to the side and
stopped the bike. “So,” he said, looking at her over his shoulder. “Where to? You ready to turn in
for the night?”

“Are you insane?” she asked, getting off the bike. “I just got rid of those…The night’s young!”
She started walking around with her arms stretched out. “I want to experience the city up close and
personal.”

As she suddenly seemed to lose her balance, Harry quickly got off the bike and was able to pull
her back into her feet just before she bumped over a newspaper stand at the edge of the
sidewalk.

“That’s why you went to an underground club?” he asked teasingly.

As if looking at him for the first time, Hermione realized his accent did not resemble that of
the Americans. “You’re British?!” she said, half asking half affirming it.

He smiled at her while nodding his head. The smile on Hermione’s face widened. Seeing that she
was a bit unstable, Harry quickly suggested, “Look! Why don’t I take you to your hotel?”

“How do you know I’m staying in a hotel?” she asked him, her wide smile not leaving her face.
“Have you been following me? I saw you last night at the museum.”

“Sure,” said Harry mockingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s my purpose in life,
to follow run away girls.”

A fit of giggles escaped out of Hermione, causing her to lose her balance once more. Harry
leaned forward and caught her hand. “I reckon you’re staying at a hotel because you’re obviously
not a New Yorker.” Pulling her back to the bike, he continued talking. “Now, be a good girl and let
me take you there.”

“No!” said Hermione strongly, while pulling her hand out of Harry’s grip. Harry let go of her,
but he was paying close attention to her instability. “I told you already… I want to enjoy the
city! Now, if you don’t want to come with me…”

As she said that, Hermione started walking away from Harry. He quickly caught up to her and,
placing his hands on her shoulders, steered her back to the bike.

“Alright, alright,” he started saying soothingly. “Just don’t go anywhere on your own. The
city’s dangerous at night, especially for someone like you.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” she asked, trying to sound offended. Still she climbed
back in the bike after Harry got on it.

“Well,” he replied. “You don’t really know your way around the city, do you?”

“And you do?”

“At least I know how to get to this great place,” he said as he discretely started the bike with
this wand, once again. “We’d be able to get you a strong cup of coffee.”

“Coffee…” she repeated in amusement. “Who says I need coffee?”

Without replying, Harry took off.

About ten minutes later, Harry stopped the bike. This time, they were just outside a place
called ‘Tony’s.’ It was a sort of coffee shop/bar that was still open. Plenty of people sat around
on the various couches and chairs available.

Harry led Hermione inside and towards a comfy looking couch. They had barely sat down when a
smiling young waitress approached them. “You two want something to drink?”

Before Harry could open his mouth, Hermione quickly ordered. “I want a beer!” she said quickly.
The waitress smiled at her.

“Sure,” she replied, giving her a quick look. “Can I just see some ID?” she asked.

Harry covered his mouth with his hand to hide a grin. He knew the waitress had to make sure she
was of age to be drinking. The place could get closed down if word got out they were selling
alcohol to people under 21.

Hermione’s face gained a bit of color. She certainly was not expecting this. Not a single
reference about providing identification had been made at the club. But then, she remembered
Sarah’s words.

Knowing it’d do no good to show the waitress her identification, but deeply hoping it could
somehow do the trick, Hermione reached inside her handbag and extracted her passport. Harry looked
intently at her. He knew Hermione was just being stubborn.

When Hermione finally pulled out the document, she extended it to the waitress, staring firmly
at her. The waitress took the passport from Hermione’s hand, her smile still on her face, and
looked at it for a while.

Both Harry and Hermione were trying to read the expression on the waitress’ face, but it didn’t
change much from the smile she had greeted them with. The waitress seemed to take a while to
analyze Hermione’s passport, perhaps more than usual. Finally, she handed it back to Hermione and
simply said, “Okay.”

Harry looked questioningly from one girl to the other. His thoughts were only interrupted when
the waitress asked him what he wanted to drink. After a few seconds of open-mouthed, confused
staring, he ordered the first thing that came to his mind, “Water.”

The waitress nodded at them and left to place the order.

“Water?” repeated Hermione mockingly after the girl had left.

Harry shook his head to clear his mind and turned to Hermione. “Yes,” he replied. “Water. You
know, rescuing run-away girls is quite a tiring task.”

Hermione, who was in very high spirits, started laughing at his words. Suddenly, Hermione
stopped laughing and looked at him intently. Then, she asked him what she should have asked a long
time ago.

“Who are you?”

Harry smiled at her, softly shaking his head. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” he said. “And you
are…”

“Hermione,” she quickly interrupted.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you have a last name, Hermione?” he asked teasingly.

“Let’s just leave it at that!” she replied after a while. Just then, the waitress came back with
their drinks. Hermione quickly took a good sip of her beer. “And what are you doing in New York,
Harry?” she asked, smiling at him after the waitress left.

He thought about it for a while, not sure what to tell her.

“Let me guess,” she interrupted his thoughts. “You woke up one day and your sense of adventure
told you ‘I should go to America’ and that’s why you’re here.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

Hermione continued drinking her beer while animatedly talking to Harry. He had barely opened his
mouth. She had dominated most of their conversation, which actually felt like a monolog as she did
most of the talking herself.

She was telling him all about the sight seeing she planned to do in the following days, and
about all the information she learned from the traveler’s guides she had bought back home.

As Hermione was talking, her handbag slipped off her lap and fell to the floor. When Hermione
noticed it, she stretched her arm to pick it up. She had barely bent down when her handbag was
already in her hand as if it had flown up to her. Harry, who noticed what had happened, tried to
make sense out of it.

“*It must’ve been a visual trick of the lighting*,” he finally decided. There was no other
explanation, right?

Suddenly, Hermione stood up, placing a hand over her lower stomach. “I gotta pee!” she announced
him.

Harry smiled widely and pointed to his left. “That way…” he simply said.

“How do you know?” she asked, surprised by his knowledge of the ladies’ toilet location.

For all response, he pointed at a sign that hung from the wall indicating which way the
bathrooms were. A few more giggles escaped out of Hermione’s mouth. Walking a bit unbalanced, she
headed in that direction. She had only taken a few steps away when she quickly turned back to
Harry.

“I’ll be right back,” she shouted at him. He waved to let her know he had heard, as well as
almost everybody else.

Quickly taking the opportunity, Harry took his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialed
Parker’s number. “Got her,” he said after Maurice picked up. He proceeded to tell Maurice where to
find them.

“Be there in five minutes,” came Maurice’s reply.

Minutes later, a black car stopped outside Tony’s front door. Through the window, Harry saw Kath
and Maurice getting out of the car. He walked out into the street to meet them. When Maurice saw
Harry, an exasperated look appeared on his face. “It was you!” he exclaimed angrily. “Why the
bloody hell didn’t you tell us you had a motorbike?”

“Because I don’t,” he replied with a grin, making a note to himself that he should return the
bike.

“And why didn’t you stop?” Maurice continued. “You were supposed to hand her to us!”

Taking a few steps closer to Maurice, Harry looked menacingly at him. “Because I didn’t think
she should be taken back to the hotel escorted by twenty agents, like a criminal, just because she
sneaked out.”

Maurice raised his chin, and replied angrily, “It’s not your place to make that decision, is
it?”

Trying to calm the two angry men, Kath stepped between them. “Alright, alright.”

Harry took a deep breath to regain his cool. Then, he added, “She’s in the loo. I’m sure you can
handle it from here, right?” he said as he patted Maurice on the back.

Maurice was about to respond to him when his phone rang. He answered it quickly. “Parker here,”
he said. “Sir, yes. Sir, we found her.”

Kath looked expectantly at Maurice while he was obviously talking to their boss, taking quick
peaks into the café expecting to see Hermione. But then, her partner’s sudden change of tone made
her turned to see him.

“Leave her? But… Sir,” he said as he passed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was Potter who
picked her up. Sir… I know it’s not my place to question your orders but…” He became quiet for a
moment, his eyes closed, as he listened to the Minister’s voice.

“Of course, Sir. We’ll do as you say, Sir,” he replied politely, but with a hint of disbelief in
his voice that only Kath perceived. Maurice walked over to Harry who had just climbed back onto the
bike, trying to take it back to where he had found it. Maurice extended his hand to Harry. “The
Prime Minister wants to talk to you,” he informed Harry.

Harry looked at him curiously. He slowly grabbed the phone and placed it to his ear. “Yes,” said
Harry. After listening silently to the orders given to him, Harry shot a questioning look at
Maurice, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Sir?” said Harry, not sure he had heard him correctly.

“You heard me, Potter,” said the Minister from the other end of the phone line. “I want you to
take care of my daughter tonight. I’m sure she’ll be ready to come back tomorrow morning after a
little controlled freedom. Just make sure she stays out of trouble!”

Harry’s mouth fell open. Had the Minister just asked him to baby-sit his daughter for the night?
Had he gone insane? What was all that rubbish of giving her some ‘controlled freedom’?

“Oh,” added the Minister. “One last thing, Potter... She’s not to know you work for me.” After
that the Minister’s voice was gone.

Harry looked from Kath to Maurice, hoping they would explain him what that was about. “Don’t ask
us,” Kath quickly replied. Maurice had already filled her in. “We’re as confused as you.”

“So… do I…” started Harry.

“Just let her do whatever she wants,” interrupted Kath. “As long as it’s nothing dangerous, or
it’ll be your arse.”

“Thanks for the advice,” replied Harry sarcastically. Just then, he looked into the café and saw
Hermione returning to the couch where they had been sitting.

Following his gaze, Kath saw Hermione, too. “Better hurry,” she said. “Don’t let her out of your
sight!” she whispered as she and Maurice hid.

“I can’t believe this!” said Harry under his breath. Still, he went back inside and straight to
Hermione.

“You went to the loo, too?” she asked, not even paying attention to the direction he was coming
back from.

“Yes,” he replied after a while.

Hermione grabbed the mug she had left on the little table, intending to empty its contents. But
before she could take another sip, Harry quickly leaned forward and took it out of her hand. “I
think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

Hermione looked at him ready to jump on him for acting like her father. But when she turned to
face him, she found a pair of emerald green eyes staring at her. Hermione totally forgot what she
had meant to tell him and simply smiled at him.

Harry got a chance to admire her chocolate brown eyes closer than before. They seemed to
twinkle, perhaps due to the alcohol she had consumed. He also noticed her blushed cheeks, another
effect of her state, and her pink lips.

She looked far more beautiful in person than in photos. Living in Muggle London, he had seen her
picture in the paper or in magazine covers quite a few times. He had even seen her on the TV news,
always at some kind of public event.

He had believed her to be some uptight, rotten-spoiled daddy’s girl. He now was thinking that he
might have been wrong about that. Just then, her giggles brought him back to reality.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You’re staring at me!” she said, stating the obvious.

Slightly embarrassed, he pulled back. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You ready to go?” he asked. Then,
he added tentatively, “Want me to take you to the hotel?”

Hermione, who was already standing up, quickly replied. “No. I do want to get out of here,
though. There are so many things to see in this city. I want to start right now!”

Sighing resignedly, Harry stood up as well and followed her out of the café. The cool night air
seemed to hit her mind in a strong way. The alcohol in her system made her sway dangerously as she
walked.

Noticing that, Harry quickly caught up with her and placed a hand on her elbow to steer her in
the right direction. “Here,” he said, taking her towards the motorbike. The owner of the bike was
going to have to wait a bit longer to get it back.

…………………………………

Harry took Hermione to the famous Times Square. She excitedly admired the tall buildings, the
flashing billboards, and the big screens. It was much better to see all these things in real life
than on postcards or traveler’s guides.

Harry continued driving until they reached Central Park. Suddenly, Hermione’s stomach started
acting up. An unpleasant feeling was creeping under her skin. She covered her mouth and quickly
shouted so Harry could stop the bike.

He took one look at her green face and quickly pulled over. Before the bike had completely
stopped, Hermione got off and ran a couple steps away. She kneeled next to a stone bench and
finally let go the contents of her stomach.

Harry hurried after her. He leaned over her, concern written all over his face. Gently, he
pulled back her curls to keep them out of her way and stroked her hair soothingly. He scanned the
area and noticed a water fountain just a few yards away.

When she seemed to be finished, Harry spoke. “You want some water?”

Wiping her mouth, she stood up. “Yeah,” she replied weakly.

Harry placed a hand around her waist to give her support. Then, he guided her to the water
fountain. Hermione washed her mouth and face. The refreshing water helped to bring back some color
to her pale face. She then looked up to see Harry staring at her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied in the same tone. “I just hope you’re feeling better.” He
raised a hand and dried a drip of water that was rolling down her cheek.

“I am,” she said with a smile.

After one more sip of water, Hermione took a couple deep breaths and walked away from the
fountain. She looked around, admiring the park surrounding them. “This is such a nice place!”

“It is,” he agreed. “But it’s better in the day. What do you say we come back here tomorrow? You
should go to the hotel and get some rest.”

Hermione raised her brow and asked him. “Am I causing you a lot of trouble?”

Harry quickly looked down.

“That’s why you want to get rid of me, isn’t it?”

Hearing a hint of hurt in her voice, he looked up. “No. You’re not giving me trouble, Hermione.
It’s been great meeting you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to get in
trouble for staying out all night.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Don’t worry about that. I know how to make things up with my dad.”

Harry smiled at her. “Aright,” he said after a while. “I won’t say anything about taking you
back anymore. When you’re ready, you’ll let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied with a wide smile on her face. Meeting this wonderful bloke was making her
vacation far more enjoyable than she had expected.



5. Change of Plans
------------------

**A/N:** *First of all, thank you to all those that have reviewed. I really appreciate it
and I’m happy to see you’re enjoying it. Yes, she is a witch, but doesn’t know it. I know you all
want to know how can that be possible and what happened to her letter, and all that. Just be a
little patient. Things will be revealed in due course.* **J**

………………………………………………

5. Change of Plans

That night was turning to be one of the best nights of Hermione’s life. She had been to an
underground club. She had met a group of funny people who hadn’t the faintest idea of who she was.
She had tried a few new drinks. She had met the handsomest bloke around, who by the way, had helped
her to get rid of the agents.

And now she was in the famous Central Park accompanied by said more-than-good-looking bloke.
They had explored the park and found a quiet lake. The park was almost deserted since it was
supposed to be closed after sunset. A few homeless people could be seen sleeping under the trees or
on some wooden benches.

Hermione spotted a couple of homeless men sitting on the grass. In her opinion, they looked
helpless, hungry and lonely. She was sure that a good bath and a hot meal would change the sad
expression on their faces. With that idea in mind, she opened her handbag and pulled out the cash
she was carrying.

“Hermione…” Harry said, trying to figure out what she was on about. But instead of replying to
him, she walked towards the two men. Harry hurried after her.

Once she reached the men, she placed half of the bills into each man’s hands. “Here!” she said,
smiling. “Get yourselves a good meal.”

Right after that, she turned around and walked away from them. Harry remained standing there for
a while, staring from the men to Hermione. Finally, he shook his head and ran after her.

“Hermione,” he said once he caught up with her. “You gave those men all your money?”

“Not all of it,” she replied nonchalantly. Then, looking into her handbag she said, “I’ve still
got… five dollars!” She pulled out a $5 bill that she hadn’t known she still had – otherwise she
would’ve also given it to the homeless. Hermione looked at Harry’s open mouthed expression and
laughed. “I’ve got my credit cards, Harry. I can just get some cash from a bank.”

“I can’t believe you,” he said softly.

“I’m sure they can use the money,” she said, disregarding the incident.

Forgetting all about it, she walked towards the lake. As she was approaching it, a sudden need
to feel the cool water on her body took over her. Without giving it a second thought, she started
taking off her jacket.

She tossed it aside carelessly as she continued to walk. Harry looked at her, wondering what was
next. Before he could start guessing what she was about to do, he turned towards her just in time
to see her taking her top off.

“Hermione!” he called out, running to her. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked as he
saw her undoing her pants, her top was now lying on the ground. Harry shut his eyes as he noticed
Hermione was now down to her undergarments.

“I’m going for a swim!” she said excitedly.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Frantically, he looked around to make sure the area was deserted. “Are you
insane?” he asked while gathering her clothes.

Hermione, however, didn’t seem to hear him. She had thrown her pants right at Harry’s feet. She
threw him a look over her shoulder and smiled coyly. Immediately after that, she ran into the
water.

“Hermione! Get out of there,” he called out to her from the edge of the water. “We’re going to
get in trouble for this.”

“No, we’re not!” she yelled out to him. “I’ve got diplomatic immunity.”

Harry rolled his eyes at that. “Perhaps you do, but I don’t!” he yelled as he continued to
search the area. When he turned back to look at Hermione, he noticed she was swimming back to
him.

“Join me!” she demanded from the water, a wide grin on her face. She seemed to be crouching
because the water level reached up to her chest.

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically. “But I have a rule that says ‘no swimming in dirty water’.”

She laughed at his words. “It’s not dirty! It’s just great.” Then, standing up she grabbed hold
of his wrist. “C’mon. How often do you get a chance to swim in Central Park?” she said as she
pulled at him.

Harry swallowed hard. Right there standing before him, was a wet, quite gorgeous, incredibly
irresistible woman. It was hard for him to keep his eyes focused somewhere above her shoulders and
not take a peak at her curves, which he could still perceive.

At the corner of his eyes, Harry could see drips of water falling down her body, making his
knees weak.

“How often do you get a chance to go to jail?” he replied mockingly. He quickly tossed her
clothes aside to try loosening her grip. Her hand, however, was holding on tightly with strength
she didn’t seem to have.

Their pushing and pulling finally ended with him landing on his buttocks in the water.

Hermione let out a sonorous laugh as she looked at his defeated expression while he tried to get
up. She was just about to pull him back into the water when they heard a voice calling out to
them.

“Hey, you two!” yelled a police officer. “You’re not supposed to swim in the lake!”

Harry and Hermione turned to see the policeman running towards them. In one quick movement,
Harry stood up and pulled Hermione out of the water. He quickly grabbed her clothes, held tight to
her arm and pulled her away.

The policeman followed them closely. They headed hurriedly towards the trees, making sudden
turns to hopefully make the officer lose their trail. Just when the policeman was about to reach
them, he tripped over the overgrown roots of a tree. He fell flat on his face, giving the two
outlaws the opportunity to get away.

Once they had left the officer way behind them, Harry and Hermione stopped, panting for breath.
After Hermione’s breathing normalized, she started laughing loudly.

“Shh… He could still hear us,” Harry said quickly to quiet her. “Here. You’d better put your
clothes back on.” As she started to get dress, Harry took a moment to look down at his wet pants.
He placed a hand inside his pocket and took out his drenched wallet.

“Brilliant,” he said sarcastically. He checked his backpack and was glad to see it was dry. Just
then, he remembered something else and pulled his hand into his other pocket. Out came his mobile
phone, dripping as much water as Harry’s wallet. “Oh no!” he said under his breath.

He tried to turn the phone on, but it didn’t work. The water had done its damage. He thought
about doing a drying spell, but Hermione was at his side. She looked apologetically at him, feeling
a bit guilty about it.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered.

Harry looked at her face. “*You should be sorry*,” he thought, but the expression on her
face quickly made him disregard the incident. “It’s okay,” he told her, shrugging his shoulders.
“It was an old thing anyway. I’ve been thinking of getting a new one. Now, I have the perfect
excuse!”

His voice, which now sounded a bit more relaxed, calmed Hermione’s worry. Her smile came back to
her face. She put her jacket back on and grabbed hold of his hand. Without saying anything, she
pulled gently at him, and they walked away.

They were deep in the woods. The sky was clear and a few stars could be seen. They sat on the
grass to rest. Harry leaned his back on a tree while Hermione stretched out on the grass, her arms
under her head, looking up at the sky.

The night was so quiet and peaceful that she didn’t notice her eyes were beginning to close.
Harry looked down at her and smiled. He shook his head lightly. “*Finally!*” he thought when
he saw Hermione had fallen asleep.

Gently, he tucked behind her ear a long curl that had fallen over her face. She stirred trying
to find a more comfortable position. Harry sighed tiredly, looked at the sky, and smiled. He had
enjoyed that night with the Prime Minister’s daughter.

……………………………………………

It was still quite early when Hermione woke up. She was lying on her side, using Harry’s lap as
a pillow. His leather jacket was nicely placed over her shoulders, keeping her warm. She opened her
eyes and a smile quickly appeared on her face.

She still couldn’t believe she had spent such a great night. For the first time in her life, she
had gathered the courage to sneak out in the middle of the night – in a foreign country no less –
escape the overwhelming watch of the agents, and take a little adventure on her own.

It had been wonderful to experience such freedom and normalcy – something she rarely had the
opportunity to enjoy.

Now, all she had to do was get back into the hotel before her father noticed she was gone. And…
perhaps she could meet Harry again and have dinner with him or something. She had enjoyed her time
with him. He was such a nice guy, and to make things even better, great looking.

She looked up to see his face and was surprised to find him staring at her. A smile appeared on
his face when she looked up.

“Slept well?” he asked softly.

“I did,” she replied. Lazily, she sat up and stretched her arms out, letting out a sigh of
happiness and taking one last look at her surroundings. Pleased with herself for welcoming a new
day out in the open, unnoticed by any watchful eyes, she stood up.

Hermione took a couple of deep breaths and smiled as the chirping of birds could be heard not
far from her. Even though she would have liked to stay there a bit longer, Hermione didn’t want to
risk her vacation days. It was time for her to head back to the hotel.

“I have to go,” she said in a sad tone.

If Harry had heard her saying those words last night during their running away from the agents,
during her vomiting session, or during her illegal swimming, he would have felt relived, even
glad.

But now that she finally said it, he couldn’t explain why, he felt sad and disappointed. Still,
he nodded his head and agreement. “Let’s see if we can still find the motorbike,” he said in a
voice than didn’t sound much like his.

They went back the same trail they had walked through the night before. Everything seemed
different now. Daylight gave the trees, the bushes, and the ground around them a different
appearance.

When they reached the place where the bike had been left, they found that it was gone. Hermione
looked at Harry with an apologetic look. “It’s alright,” he said. “It wasn’t even mine.”

“Whose was it, then?” she asked.

Harry turned to see her. He didn’t want to admit he had ‘borrowed’ it on purpose to help her get
away. Harry only hoped that the bike had been taken by the police and returned to its owner. “I
borrowed it,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “We’ll just grab a taxi.”

With that idea in mind, they walked back to the street. Even at that early hour, people could
already been seen walking around the streets, ready to start their day. Harry and Hermione walked
to a corner.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, turning to see her. “I want to make sure you get there safely.”

Hermione smiled at his words. She was more than glad to remain at his side a while longer. Then,
a thought came to her mind. “Do you think $5 will be enough to pay the taxi?”

Harry chuckled, remembering Hermione giving her money away to the homeless people from the park.
“It’s okay,” he said, looking right into her eyes. “I’ll get it.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she quickly replied. “I can just ask the driver to wait while I go
get some money.”

“Sure,” he said sarcastically. “You’re going to ask your dad for money to pay a taxi that just
brought you back after a wild night in the city.”

Hermione bit her lower lip. He was right. The last thing she wanted was for her father to find
out what she had been up to the night before. “Alright,” she said. Just then, she looked across the
street and she thought of a way to repay him. “You get the taxi and I’ll get us some coffee. I’m
sure $5 will be enough for that.”

Harry turned to look into the direction she was pointing. Across the street, there was a little
coffee shop. He smiled and grabbed her hand. Minutes later, they walked into the café. Harry headed
to the counter to order two cups to go while Hermione stood back, watching a TV that was turned
on.

A woman was giving the morning news. “In other news, earlier this morning a car bomb was
detonated just outside the British Embassy in Tel Aviv. It’s still unknown whether the attack was
directed to the Embassy. No injuries were reported, although the building sustained considerable
damage.”

Hermione didn’t hear the rest as her mind went into a frantic swirl of ideas. Seconds later,
Harry joined her with a couple of coffees in his hands. He had also listened to the news and his
expression was troubled.

When Hermione sensed Harry’s presence next to her, she turned to him. “I have to go,” she said
in a very serious tone.

“Of course,” he replied in the same way. Forgetting he wasn’t supposed to know her identity, he
said, “Your father’s not going to be pleased when he hears that.”

Hermione quickly looked up at Harry with a look of surprise.

Seeing he had said too much, Harry thought it was best to tell her part of the truth. “I know
who you are,” he said, responding to the question he could read on her face, but not mentioning a
thing about him being hired to look after her.

Hermione nodded. “*Of course,*” she thought. “*Being British…*” Hermione realized that
it was quite logical for him to know her identity since she was a public figure. “Why didn’t you
say anything last night?” she asked as they walked out of the café.

“I didn’t see the need,” he simply said.

Hermione smiled at that. It felt good to know that he had not seen her as the Prime Minister’s
daughter, but just as a regular girl. Without saying a word, she took a few steps away, not really
paying attention to where she was going.

She could already hear her father ranting about those violent lunatics, as he called them.
Hermione knew that lately the troubling situation in the Middle East worried her father. This
attack would only make him feel even more threatened.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks as her eyes opened wide. “Oh no!” she said.

“What is it?” asked Harry, looking into the direction her eyes were focused, but she didn’t seem
to be watching at anything in particular.

“I can’t go back!” she said, not looking at him and mainly talking to herself. With the same
look of shock in her eyes, she tried to continue walking, but Harry grabbed hold of her elbow and
made her stop.

“Why?” he said, turning her to face him.

Hermione looked at him, realizing she had been thinking out loud. She sighed and looked right at
him.

“My father’s going to freak out,” she said as if that would be clear enough for Harry to
understand her situation. Seeing his still confused expression, she continued. “He was supposed to
go back home today and I was to stay here. But after what happened, I’m sure he’s going to want me
to go back with him. And I don’t want to do that.”

She pulled out of Harry’s grip and resumed her walking without direction. “He had already agreed
to let me stay here on my own until the end of next week.” Turning to see him, she added quickly,
“Of course that means along with a couple agents and… someone else.” She didn’t fancy mentioning
she was to have a chaperon.

“I haven’t had a real vacation in years, Harry. I deserve to have a few days off,” she said as
she stopped walking.

Harry gently placed a hand on her arm, trying to soothe her. “Talk to your dad. I’m sure he’ll
understand if you tell him what you just told me.”

Hermione made a disbelieving noise with her throat. “You don’t know my father, Harry. I mean,
you do… but you don’t know what he’s like. He’s going to back away on his promise.” She looked
right at Harry’s eyes and added sadly, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Harry’s insides hurt at the look on her face. He didn’t know why, but it affected him seeing her
beautiful brown eyes looking so sad. Obviously, Hermione knew her father better than anybody else,
but he wanted to find a way to make her feel better.

“I’m sure he only wants you to be safe,” he whispered.

“Sure,” she said in a mocking way. “If he could, he’d lock me up in a tower to keep me safe. But
I want to live my life, Harry. Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not,” he quickly replied. After a few silent minutes, he asked, “What are you going
to do then?”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest while biting her bottom lip. Her brilliant mind was
trying to find a way out of the hole. “Well, I’m not going back to the hotel…”

“You already said that,” he reminded her.

“I’m going to start my vacation right now. I’ll… I’ll call my father to let him know that he can
go back to London as he had planned.” She took a couple steps away from Harry. “Once he’s gone,
I’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Okay,” he said resignedly. He was afraid his helping her could cause him trouble with her
father, but he thought staying with her would be better than leaving her on her own.

“Could I borrow your mobile phone?” she asked.

“It’s dead, remember?”

“Right…” Hermione scanned the area and quickly spotted a pay phone. Without one more word,
Hermione walked straight to the phone booth to let her father know the decision she had made.

…………………………………….

“Hermione, where are you?” said the Prime Minister once Thompson informed him his daughter was
on the phone. “I need you to get here immediately. We’re leaving as soon as you arrive.”

Hermione sighed, shaking her head as she confirmed she had been right. “I’m sorry Dad, but I’m
not going back,” she said in an emotionless voice.

“What do you mean you’re not going back? You don’t know what just happened,” he said. He was
about to tell her about the attack to the Embassy when she interrupted him.

“I know! I know what happened, but like I said… I’m not going back just yet,” she said, thanking
god they were having this conversation over the phone. She didn’t fancy arguing with her father in
person. “We agreed I’d be staying back, remember?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Granger asked her. “It’s not safe for you to stay here! We have
to go back and deal with this situation.”

“I know you have to do that, but you don’t need me. I’d do no good,” she tried to reasoned with
him. But he had also made up his mind and was as stubborn as his daughter.

“That’s not the point, Hermione, and you know that. I cannot have you in a foreign country while
our kingdom is under attack.”

“Under attack?” she repeated incredulous. “You speak as if we were in the middle of a war! Dad,
nobody even knows if the attack was directed at the embassy. There were no injured people! I think
you’re making this bigger than it is.”

“You are not taking this situation seriously,” he quickly replied. “And on top of that, you’re
being selfish, putting your enjoyment over the safety of our people.”

“Selfish?” she asked. Perhaps she was. “And don’t you think I deserve to think about myself at
least once in my life? I’ve always done what it’s been expected of me. I’ve given you no reason for
complaints. I need to have some time off and enjoy my life for a change.”

But no matter what she said, Mr. Granger wouldn’t hear it. He was afraid that her desire to
enjoy a few days off would put her safety at risk.

“I’ve heard enough, Hermione,” he interrupted her. “You’re not going to act like a spoiled girl
at this point. You are to come back here this instant and go back to London with me.”

A few silent seconds tickled away. Hermione closed her eyes. She was hurt that her father
wouldn’t give her a chance to think for herself and make her own decisions. “Dad,” she finally
said. “I’m sorry to see we can’t agree on this, but I’ve already made up my mind. I’m staying here,
and there’s no way you’re going to change that.”

Immediately after that, she hung up the phone.

Harry, who had walked away to give her privacy, came back when he saw she had ended the call.
Hermione was still standing in the phone booth, looking down. He leaned on the booth, waiting for
her to talk.

Just by seeing her disappointed look, Harry knew what her father had said. Hermione looked up to
face him, resolution on her face. “I have to leave the city,” she simply said.

“Leave the city?” he repeated.

Hermione walked out of the booth. “If I stay here…” she started saying as she walked down the
street. “…my father’s going to send out every agent available to find me and take me back.” Looking
at him, she quickly said, “I do not fancy that! The only way they can’t find me is if I leave the
city and go somewhere else.”

“Like where?” he asked.

Hermione gave it some thought. She hadn’t planned going anywhere else. All the traveler’s guides
she had bought were about New York City. Just then, she remembered something – or better said –
someone. “Cynthia!” she said.

“What?” asked Harry a bit confused.

“My friend Cynthia Reynolds!” she replied, stopping in her tracks. “I can go to her. I’m sure
she’d be happy to take me for a few days.”

“And where does you friend live?” he asked.

“Chicago,” she simply said.



6. On The Road
--------------

6. On The Road

“PARKER!” Maurice heard the Prime Minister’s voice when he picked up the phone. “Get in here
this instant!”

Less than five minutes later, the time that Parker took to pull his pants on and run down the
hall, he was standing in front of his fuming boss, listening to him recount the recent
developments.

Katherine was also there as Mr. Granger had called on both of them. After yelling at them for
leaving Hermione alone with Potter – the fact that it had being his idea seemed to have slipped Mr.
Granger’s mind – he ordered them to locate his daughter.

“Contact Potter! I’m sure she’s still with him,” he shouted. “I can’t believe I trusted him!”
Turning back to Katherine and Maurice, he said, “You two find her and bring her to me as soon as
possible. I will not leave this country without my daughter!”

…………………………………………

“Chicago!?” repeated a surprised Harry. “Hermione, do you know how far that is? Chicago is not
around the corner.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I know that, Harry. I did take geography classes, you know.
Besides, it’s not like I’m going to walk there. I’m sure there’s plenty of ways to get there.”

Harry looked at her questioningly. “You’re going to go all the way to Chicago… on your own?” he
asked teasingly.

“Yeah,” she replied in a defensive way. “You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“Well,” he started mockingly. “I’ve had to save your arse more than a couple of times… in just
one night! I can’t imagine what would happen if you were to travel all the way to Chicago
alone.”

Hermione raised her chin. She didn’t like to hear that, even if he had meant it only as a joke.
Without saying one more thing to Harry, she turned her back on him and started walking towards the
edge of the sidewalk.

Harry sighed. “*Perhaps she is the spoiled girl I thought*,” he reasoned. Still, she was
his responsibility until the moment one of her agents would replace him. So, after taking a deep
breath, he ran after her.

By that time, Hermione had already hailed a taxi and was getting in. Harry barely reached them
in time to jump in after her. When she noticed that, Hermione threw him a killer look and turned
her face in the opposite direction.

“C’mon Hermione,” he started, trying to smooth things out. “I was just kidding. Please don’t be
mad.”

Hermione turned to look at him. “Don’t you EVER doubt again, not even for one second, that I am
capable of taking care of myself.”

Mocking a salute, Harry raised his right hand and touched his forehead. “Yes, milady!”

Not being able to keep an angry expression anymore, Hermione laughed at his silliness while
slapping him playfully on the arm.

“By the way…” he whispered in her ear. “How were you planning to pay for the taxi when you have
no cash?”

Hermione turned to look at him. She had totally forgotten about her moneyless situation. “Well,
I… uh, was going to…” But Harry never got to hear what she was going to say as they both started
laughing at the same time.

Just then, the driver interrupted them. “Where to?” he asked.

Harry turned to look at her expectantly.

“The train station?” she said in what sounded more like a question. The driver nodded and
focused his attention back on the road.

“The train station?” Harry repeated. “I thought you’d be taking a plane.”

Hermione shook her head. “No. That’s exactly what my father would expect me to do,” she
explained. “Hopefully this will buy me some time.”

When the taxi arrived at the train station, they got out. Hermione took a look around and
noticed something across the street. “I need to get some cash,” she told Harry. He turned to see
what she was pointing to and saw an ATM machine. They crossed the street and walked over to the
machine. Once Hermione got what she needed, they headed into the station.

“What time does the next train to Chicago leave?” Hermione asked the woman behind the
counter.

“It left an hour ago,” she informed them. “The next one leaves at noon.” Hermione looked
disappointedly at Harry. She didn’t want to wait that long. “If you want,” the woman spoke again.
“You can take the train to Columbus, Ohio. It’ll take you half way there, and it’s leaving in
fifteen minutes.”

Hermione’s face quickly brightened. “Brilliant!” she said animatedly. “Give us two tickets,
then,” she said, looking at Harry. She was glad to see he had no objection to that.

“Hermione…” said Harry quickly, handing her some money.

Hermione, however, pushed his hand away without taking the money. “It’s okay, Harry,” she said
nonchalantly. “It’s on my Dad!”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I don’t like!”

…………………………………………..

Katherine and Maurice were standing outside Tony’s. They had asked around to see if anybody knew
where Harry and Hermione had gone the night before. Nobody had been able to give them any leads.
They were disappointedly looking at each other. Coming there hadn’t helped them one bit.

“Now what?” asked Maurice after he tried Harry’s cell for the hundredth time, getting no
response.

Kath took her time to reply. She paced around slowly, pondering the situation. After a while,
she said, “Knowing Hermione, I can tell you she’s going to do everything she can to not be
found.”

“Oh, that’s just great!” said Maurice with a hint of sarcasm.

Ignoring his remark, Kath continued her out-loud thinking. “She knows that we could ask for
police assistance, even when her father wouldn’t fancy it.” Kath continued pacing as Maurice looked
expectantly at her. “Of course, the best way to stay out of our sight would be to… leave the city!”
she said, turning to Maurice.

“Leave the city?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah! The Minister’s obviously going to send agents all over the city. They’re going to look
under every rock for her. So… the smart thing to do would be to go where we wouldn’t look for
her.”

Maurice was still not convinced. “I don’t know… Do you really think she’d leave the city
alone?”

“She’s not alone. Potter’s with her,” Kath reminded him.

“How do you know he’s still with her?” asked Maurice, trying to fight back her theory. “What if
he left her? What if he took her back to the hotel and then she took off on her own
afterwards?”

“No. I don’t think he would do that,” she quickly replied without a trace of doubt in her
voice.

“How can you be so sure?” Maurice quickly spat out. “You barely know the bloke!”

“I’ve got a feeling, okay?”

“Alright, missy… If you’re so clever, tell me where, according to you, Hermione would go? She
doesn’t know anybody in this bloody country!”

Kath thought about it for a while. In just a matter of minutes, her face brightened. “Actually,
she does know somebody,” she said triumphantly. Looking at Maurice’s open mouth she continued,
“Cynthia!”

That name didn’t do anything for Maurice. He still looked puzzled.

Kath, who had been Hermione’s escort at boarding school, knew all about Cynthia and her
friendship with Hermione. After she explained those facts to Maurice, he asked, “And where does
this Cynthia person live?”

“Chicago,” she simply replied. Once again, Maurice’s mouth fell open. Before he had time to
process this new piece of information, Kath said, “Call the credit card company. Hermione didn’t
have enough cash. Find out if she’s purchased a plane ticket to Chicago.”

……………………………………………………

Hermione admired the scenery through the window of the train compartment she was sharing with
Harry Potter. They had just left the big city behind and now the train was speeding through
smaller, not-as-sophisticated-as-NYC cities.

She sighed in relief. The farther away the train got from New York, the more relaxed and
liberated she felt. She sat back on her seat and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the rhythm
of the train’s movement.

She opened her eyes and found the emerald green eyes of Harry looking right at her, a smile in
his face. He was resting in the seat across from hers. Hermione smiled back at him.

For a few silent minutes, they stared at each other. Hermione couldn’t believe her luck. She was
beginning an adventure along with a very nice guy. The fact that he was British seemed
unbelievable. They could’ve crossed each other in the streets of London and never noticed it. It
amazed her to see that faith brought them together in a city miles and miles away from their
homeland.

Just then, a question came to her mind. “Harry, why did you come along?” she asked as her eyes
never left his. Harry was not expecting this question. For a while, he didn’t know what to say that
would sound convincing enough so she wouldn’t suspect his real reasons for following her.

Before he could find a suitable answer, Hermione spoke again, “I’d hate to know that I ruined
your plans. You seemed to like New York.”

“Don’t worry,” he finally said. “I was beginning to get bored there. It’s best to see other
places then, right?” Even though his voice sounded normal and relaxed, Hermione noticed that he
avoided her eyes.

“Is that the only reason?” she asked tentatively, leaning a bit forward. Her brown eyes were
desperately trying to read between the lines and find the real reason for his tagging along. Her
suspicions, however, were not even close to the reality. Deep down, she hoped Harry had agreed to
travel with her only to get to know her a bit better and to spend more time with her.

Trying to keep his eyes neutral, Harry dared looked back at her. “What other reason could I
have?” he whispered, leaning forward as well. His gaze was so strong that she wasn’t able to hold
it.

Hermione sat back and tried to look calm, though her insides were boiling. She took a few deep
breaths to slow down her heart and made an effort to resume a casual conversation. “Well, I’m sure
you’ll enjoy it,” she said, looking at her fingernails to avoid his eyes, which she still felt on
her. “I didn’t read anything about Chicago, since I hadn’t planned to leave New York. But I’ve
heard Chicago also has plenty of interesting things to see.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” he said softly. When Harry noticed that she was beginning to blush, he
smiled and took his gaze off of her. “*What have I gotten myself into?*” he thought, hoping
this wouldn’t cause trouble for either one of them.

………………………………………

“Well,” said Maurice after he hung up the phone. He had just called the credit card company.
“She has not booked any flights,” he informed Kath. They were sitting in the car, which was still
parked outside Tony’s. “But she made a cash withdrawal form one of those ATMs about an hour
ago.”

“Smart move!” said Kath impressed. “Using cash so we can’t trace her that way, uh?” She went
quiet for a second, pondering the information. “Do you know which ATM, its location?” she asked
quickly, pulling out a street map of the city. Maurice handed her a piece of paper where he had
written the address the customer service lady gave him.

Quickly, Kath was able to point out the street corner where Hermione had obtained the money. Her
eyes scanned the surrounding area. She immediately noticed something that called her attention.

“Look!” she said. “A train station.”

Maurice looked up at her triumphant expression. “You think she took a train to Chicago?” he
asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

“Yeah,” quickly replied Kath. “She’s obviously trying to go the opposite way from our
expectations. I’m sure Hermione guessed we’d first look at the airports. Taking a train would buy
her some time.”

Maurice smiled at his partner. He had to admit she was a clever woman. “Alright,” he finally
agreed as he started the car. “Which way should I go?” he asked ready to take directions from
her.

Minutes later, they arrived at the train station. “Have you seen this girl?” Kath asked the
woman at the counter. She and Maurice were asking to all of the attendants to see if any of them
could recognize Hermione’s picture. “She was accompanied by a tall, handsome guy.”

Maurice made a disbelieving noise deep in his throat at Kath's words.

“Oh yes!” the woman replied, looking at the photo and ignoring Maurice. “They wanted to go to
Chicago.”

With a triumphant look, Kath turned to face Maurice. He simply shrugged his shoulders and looked
away. “How long ago were they here?”

“Their train left about an hour ago,” she informed them. Kath placed the picture back in her
pocket and was about to walk away when the attendant called out to her, “But they didn’t take the
train to Chicago.”

Maurice and Kath looked at each other. “Didn’t you just say…” Maurice started, but the woman
interrupted him.

“Yes. They wanted to go there, but that train had already left. So they took the one to
Columbus, Ohio. It takes them half way there.”

Kath thanked the woman and pulled Maurice out of the station. “Let’s go!” she said, taking the
car keys from Maurice. “We need to get a map of Ohio.”

Maurice looked questioningly at her and asked, “And just where the bloody hell is that?”

…………………………………………..

Four hours after the train departed form New York, Hermione’s stomach growl like an angry beast.
Luckily, she now had enough cash to satisfy that need.

Harry and Hermione went into the dining car and ordered some sandwiches. Since neither of them
had eaten much since the day before, they devoured their food silently as the train took them
closer to their destination. After their hunger was satisfied, they walked lazily back to their
compartment.

Hermione dropped into her seat and started going through her handbag. She took out a tiny mirror
and a lip gloss. Harry smiled as he looked as she put some gloss in her pink lips. He thought her
lips looked just fine with nothing on, but that lip gloss did made them shine in such a way… it
made him feel like sucking them and biting at them and…

“*Whoa… Stop Potter! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?*” he asked himself as he
realized what he had been thinking. “*You’r*e *not supposed to think about her like that.
She’s the Prime Minister’s daughter! You’re supposed to protect her, and thoughts like those are
not going to do any good*.”

Trying to empty his mind of impure thoughts, Harry cleared his throat and made an effort to
speak casually. “So, this friend of yours… you think she’s going to be willing to have you for a
while?”

“Oh yes!” quickly replied Hermione, shifting in her seat to bring her legs up onto the empty
seat. “We were together in boarding school, but I haven’t seen her in three years,” she informed
Harry.

Hermione put her stuff back into her handbag as she continued talking, “She asked me to stay
over loads of times, but my Dad never let me. He couldn’t even think about sending his daughter
alone across the ocean!”

She looked out the window for a while. “At first he was right,” she said softly. “I was twelve
the first time I asked him. After we finished school I was almost sure he would allow me to come.
After all, I had graduated with honors… you know, did my best. But his answer was the same. He
wouldn’t even hear of it.”

Harry looked at the expression on her face and couldn’t help voicing his thoughts. “I assumed
your father would grant you every little wish you ever had.” Hermione looked at him mockingly. “I
always thought you were a rotten spoiled daddy’s girl.”

Hermione laughed at his words. “You couldn’t have been more wrong!” she declared once she was
able to talk. Slowly, her laugh faded away and a weird expression appeared on her face. “I reckon
if Mum hadn’t died, my life would’ve been completely different.”

Her brown eyes avoided Harry’s as she looked out the window.

Harry knew perfectly well what she meant by that. His life would also have been very different
if his parents were still alive. “At least you had your dad,” he said slowly. She turned to face
him and found understanding in his eyes. “I lost both my parents when I was one. I know how you
feel, but I’m sure you agree with me it’s better to have one parent than none at all.”

Hermione nodded silently. Finding out about this part of Harry’s life made her feel even closer
to him. Deep in his eyes, she could see a tender part of him that she longed to know more of.

…………………………………………..

Maurice’s mobile phone suddenly rung. “Parker here,” he answered. “Sir! Yes, sir. We’ve found
something.”

Kath looked expectantly at her partner as he talked on the phone. Wanting to hear what the
Minister had to say, she stood right next to Maurice and pressed her ear close to the phone.
Maurice rolled his eyes at her, but he didn’t move.

“We found out she bought a train ticket to Ohio,” Maurice continued.

“What?” came to Minister’s voice from the other end of the phone line. “Ohio? What are you
talking about?”

Maurice cleared his throat and explained their findings to the Minister, “She obviously wanted
to avoid getting caught in the city and decided to go where we wouldn’t find her.”

“There is no place where I can’t find her!” the Minister quickly spat. “I can’t believe this!
I’m due back at London to attend a very important meeting…” A pause followed Mr. Granger’s words.
After a while, he spoke again, “Is Potter still with her?”

“We believe he is, sir,” answered Maurice.

Once again, silence followed. The Minister was not totally sure whether that information calmed
him or worried him even more. After a while, he said, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I
have to go back home. After such unreasonable behavior, I can’t wait for Hermione to come to her
senses and return willingly. You and Williams will have to deal with this in the quickest, most
discrete manner. I don’t want the media to hear about this.”

“Of course, sir,” Maurice quickly replied. “You can count on it!”

…………………………………………………

The door to the compartment Harry and Hermione occupied slide slowly. A tall and painfully slim
man walked in. His appearance was no better than one of the homeless men Hermione had given her
money to. He could use a hot meal, but not as much as a good bath.

“Hello there,” he said cheerfully as he walked in. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked,
walking over to the seat next to Hermione.

Not waiting for them to reply, he sat down and dropped a rather worn down backpack in the floor
next to him. Hermione smiled as he sat down while Harry’s eyes carefully watched his movements.

“Thomas Schott,” he introduced himself, stretching his hand out to Hermione.

“Nice to meet you Thomas,” Hermione replied in a friendly way as she grabbed his hand. “I’m
Hermione, and this is Harry.”

Thomas tightened his grip on her hand, a bit harder than usual. He also held to it longer than
socially acceptable. “Pleasure darling,” he said as he continued to shake her hand. “It’s great to
meet such a beautiful lady.”

Seeing that he wasn’t letting go of her hand, Harry moved forward, closed his fist around
Thomas’ wrist and pulled it off of Hermione. Thomas looked questioningly at him for a few seconds,
but his expression quickly changed to a big smile.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Thomas quickly said to Harry.

Harry, not fancying the intruder that much, didn’t return the smile or the greeting. But Thomas
ignored Harry’s cold attitude and turned to Hermione.

“And where are you two heading?” he asked.

“Chicago,” Hermione replied.

Thomas chuckled and covered his mouth with his hand. “Forgive me, honey,” he said, removing his
hand from his mouth and placing it on her arm. “But I believe you’re in the wrong train. This one’s
heading to Columbus.”

“I know,” Hermione said, smiling. She explained to him how they had decided to take this one and
were planning to take another one in Columbus.

“Have you ever been to Chicago before?” Thomas asked, turning around in his seat so that he was
now facing Hermione.

When she replied it was her first time, Thomas started telling her all he knew about Chicago.
According to him, Thomas was an expert on the city and repeatedly bragged about how well he knew
his way around. Forgetting all about Harry being in the compartment with them, Thomas involved her
in a loud conversation.

Eventually, the slow movement of the train, the talk, but most of all the lack of sleep from the
night before began to rock Hermione to sleep. When she finally closed her eyes, Thomas fell
completely silent.

Harry couldn’t be happier. He really disliked the guy and was anxious to get rid of him.

Thomas shifted once again in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Minutes later, he
was also sound asleep. The only difference between him and Hermione was that loud snores were
coming out of his mouth.

Exasperated, Harry looked out of the window while he tried to block out the annoying sound. He
didn’t know which was worse: his snoring or his talking. Slowly, Harry’s tiredness won him over.
The little sleep he’d gotten the night before made him fall asleep rather quickly. So deep, he was
finally able to tune off the loud snores.

Hours later, after a long ten-hour trip, the train began to slow down. A voice through the
speaker system announced their arrival in Columbus, Ohio.

Harry rubbed his eyes to rid them off sleep and stretched his arms out. Immediately, he noticed
Thomas was gone. He sighed, feeling relieved. He looked out the window and saw they were arriving
at the station.

“Hermione,” he said softly, shaking her shoulder gently. “We’re here!”

Hermione let out a moan and shifted in her seat, but she didn’t open her eyes. He hated to wake
her up. Just then, the train came to a complete stop. Harry called out to her once again, a bit
louder this time.

“Hermione!”

This time she opened her eyes and looked questioningly at him as if for a second she didn’t
recognize him. “C’mon,” he said, pulling her arm to help her get up. “We have to get off.”

Hermione’s mind finally cleared. She looked out the window and smiled. Turning to face Harry,
she smiled brightly at him. “Let’s go then.”



7. Columbus
-----------

**A/N:** *You all were right at not trusting Thomas, and most of you have guessed
why….*

……………………………………….

7. Columbus

One hour before the train was supposed to reach its final destination, Kath and Maurice arrived
at the city of Columbus. Even though the train had left New York almost two hours before they did,
they had arrived first - one of the good things about driving.

The last time they had stopped for gas, Kath had purchased a street map of the city to find the
location of the train station. She had marked the spot so they could easily pinpoint the way they
had to go.

Since Kath was driving (Maurice just couldn’t get the hang of driving on the wrong side of the
road), she handed the map to Maurice so he could direct her. They had been driving around the city
for almost half an hour when Kath began to wonder if Maurice was giving her the right
directions.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" she asked when she realized they were driving by
a street they had already passed. “We’ve already seen that magazine stand twice before!”

Maurice turned the map around and stared blankly at it, but he didn’t reply to Kath. Kath
groaned in frustration. As soon as she found an empty spot, she parked the car and grabbed, in one
quick movement, the map from Maurice’s hands.

She analyzed the map for a while silently, thinking about the turns Maurice had instructed her
to take. Suddenly an angry look came upon her face.

“Maurice, you idiot!” she said and slapped his arm. “You gave me the wrong directions. This…”
she said, pointing to a spot in the map. “…was supposed to be a left turn. You told me to go right.
You’ve taken us to the other side of the city!”

“Are you sure?” asked Maurice, incredulity in his voice. He was still sure that he had read the
map correctly.

“Of course I’m sure!” spat Kath furiously. “I never thought you didn’t know how to read a
map.”

“I do know,” replied Maurice in an offended tone. Kath looked at him, sarcasm in her expression,
but didn’t say a word. “Alright, alright!” he finally admitted. “You win. I screwed up, okay? What
matters is… you know how to get us to the station, right?”

Kath sighed resignedly as her eyes went back to the map. After she analyzed it for a while, she
finally looked up. “Yes,” she said, staring the car. “Just pray we still make it there on
time.”

......................................

A little after 5 p.m., Harry and Hermione arrived at the state capital of Ohio, the city of
Columbus. It was a warm, sunny mid-June day. As the train continued all the way to the station, two
pairs of avid eyes admired the skyline of the downtown area from their compartment window.

When the train finally stopped, they walked out into a busy and crowded station. Hermione stood
still for a while, taking in her surroundings. To avoid losing her, Harry grabbed hold of her hand
and pulled gently at her.

“C’mon,” he said. “Got to find out about the train to Chicago.” Following the signs posted on
the walls, they found the area where a couple of women stood behind a tall counter, assisting
travelers, selling tickets, and checking luggage in.

There was a long line of people waiting to reach the counter. Harry and Hermione turned to see
each other. Neither of them fancied standing in line, but they had no choice. They let go of their
hands as they were walking towards the end of the line. Just then, Harry noticed a train schedule
posted up on a bulletin board.

He walked over there and tried to locate the schedule for the Chicago train. Hermione, who
hadn’t noticed Harry walking away, turned to ask him something only to see he was not there. She
looked around and quickly spotted him, waving at her to join him.

“Look!” he said. “The train to Chicago doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow at 8 a.m.?” Hermione exclaimed as she look at the schedule. She shrugged her shoulders
and looked up at Harry. “Oh, well… We’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow, then.”

Harry looked around at the crowded station. He didn’t fancy staying in that place for more than
12 hours. “Wait?” he repeated with a hint of incredulity. “Here?”

“Not here!” Hermione quickly replied. “We can take the opportunity to look around the city. I’m
sure we can find something interesting to keep us busy until tomorrow morning.”

Harry was not as excited as Hermione about the idea of wondering around a city neither one of
them knew. He, after all, was supposed to keep her from doing anything dangerous. “You know,” he
said tentatively. “It’s still not too late to go back to New York.”

“C’mon Harry,” said Hermione, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him towards the exit.
“Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of getting lost in the city.”

Harry stopped just before they exited the station and, taking her hand in his, made her stop and
turn around to face him. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Hermione looked right at his penetrating green eyes. It was as if he wanted to see deep inside
her. Feeling hypnotized, Hermione stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his chest, which felt
strong and firm under her touch. She raised her chin to maintain their eyes locked.

“Nothing will happen to me…” she whispered. “…as long as you’re by my side.”

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry started to lean down towards her. It was as if her
eyes were pulling him closer and closer, like a magnet. All he could think of was the brown of her
eyes and the incredible way they shined. Harry had never seen eyes like hers that looked right
through you.

Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. Harry lowered his eyes and looked at
her shiny, pink lips. Unconsciously, he licked his own in anticipation.

When he was just about to close the distance between them, two kids ran into them and pushed
Hermione aside. Thanks to Harry's seeker reflexes, he was able to grab hold of her elbow and
keep her from falling to the ground.

The kids turned and shouted a hurried apology. Hermione, smiling at them, waved her hand and
yelled out an ‘it's okay’ reply, completing forgetting what had almost happened.

Harry felt torn in two.

Once side of him, the professional Auror one, was glad about the timely interruption. Those kids
had stopped him from making a huge mistake. He had almost kissed the Prime Minister's daughter!
He would definitely get in trouble if he mixed his personal feelings with his job.

Still, there was another part of him that felt disappointed. He had been so close... and he
hadn't been able to enjoy what he so much wanted to do. He had to admit it. He was dying to
kiss her.

While Hermione waved and smiled at the running kids, Harry took the opportunity to take a couple
deep breaths, normalize the beating of his heart, and get his cool back. He didn't want her to
see how much the interruption had upset him.

Finally, Hermione turned back towards him, a smile still on her face. Not wanting her to make
any comments about the awkward situation, Harry quickly stepped forward and held open the door for
her to walk out, carefully avoiding her eyes.

The fresh air helped Harry to clear his mind and appear as if nothing had happened. He glanced
at her from the corner of his eye and was surprised to see she seemed as normal as before the
incident. Just then, she turned to face him and gave him a huge smile.

"C'mon Harry," she said, grabbing hold of his hand. "Let's see what this
city's got to offer."

...........................................

Getting back on the right way to the train station had taken longer than Kath had expected. It
was rush hour and traffic had not helped much.

As soon as Kath found a spot to park, she and Maurice sprinted out of the car and ran to the
station’s entrance. They were late. They had waste too much time lost in the opposite side of the
city.

Once they stepped inside the station, they headed to the information desk. A tall black man,
dressed in a security guard uniform, sat on a stool reading the sports section of a newspaper.

"The train coming from New York, has it arrived?" asked Kath without further ado.

"It arrived fifteen minutes ago," the man replied without even raising his eyes from
the paper.

Kath and Maurice looked at each other and then scanned their surroundings. The station was
packed with people. Travelers and local commuters filled the hall around them as well as the
boarding platforms. To locate two people among that crowd was not going to be an easy task.

............................

Hermione’s eyes were eagerly taking in the streets and people of Columbus. To be in a city in
the other side of the ocean with nobody trailing after her was exhilarating beyond reason. She felt
like she could do anything, like she had wings and she could fly if she wanted to.

Any little thing in the city seemed wonderful to her – a flower shop, a couple of girls eating
ice-cream, kids running down the street along with their German shepherd. Of course what really
amazed her was the simple fact of being there to see it all.

With a smile of contentment in his face, Harry took in every expression on her face, glad to see
she was enjoying herself. It amused him to see her acting like a little kid who had sneaked into a
candy shop.

Eventually, their feet led them to a park full of people. Curious to see what was happening,
Hermione headed in that direction. Harry hurried after her.

There seemed to be some kind of a festival going on in the park. Several canopies had been put
up along a stone trail. Underneath, stands offered a wide variety of crafts, hand made garments,
hats, and even small pieces of art. A contagious rhythm was heard throughout the stands. Hermione
guessed it’d be samba due to the strong drums leading the beat.

They spent a couple hours lost among the stands going through all the items. When they reached
the end of the stands, they noticed a stage had been set up in the center of the park where the
music was coming from. A group of about twelve people played the great music they had been
listening as a group of six girls danced to its rhythm.

Hermione grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and pulled him through the crowd as close to the stage as
she could. She was fascinated by the way those men were able to create such wonderful sounds by
hitting their drums with their bare hands. Hermione thought the girls dancing must have extra
flexibility in their bodies. Otherwise, she couldn’t understand how their bodies contorted in such
way.

It was amazing to see them dance, but their costumes were even more amazing. The girls were
wearing shiny, diminutive bikinis that barely covered the essentials while huge astonishing
feathers covered their rears. Similar feathers were also arranged nicely in their headdresses.

As Hermione admired them, she could feel the thump of the drums deep inside her, and before she
realized what she was doing her own hips began to move as if on their own.

Harry looked down at her and smiled. Soon after, she was clapping to the rhythm. Harry imitated
her, and moments later they were dancing nonstop.

…………………………………………

After spending more than an hour at the train station trying to spot the brown curls and the
slender figure of the Prime Minister’s daughter, Katherine and Maurice decided to move their search
outside the station.

Kath had already spotted the same train schedule Harry had noticed and knew they were stuck in
the city until the next morning.

“We could ask for police assistance,” Maurice suggested as they sat down in a restaurant to eat.
They had barely eaten on their way from New York. Not wanting to arrive after the train, Kath had
limited their stops to the bare minimum, which meant ‘for gas only.’

“You know bloody well what the Minister would say about that,” replied Kath in a tired tone. She
was exhausted. “He would not like it if the press got wind of what’s happening, and if we ask for
police assistance… it’s bound to happen. We have to do this ourselves.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” said Maurice with a sigh. “We should just wait for tomorrow
and get her right before she jumps into the train again. We could do with a few hours off and a
good night’s sleep.”

“Don’t let the Minister hear you saying you rather rest than find his daughter…”

“Oh! C’mon, Williams,” whined Maurice. “Don’t tell me that you’re not tired!”

Katherine threw him a disapproving look. “I am, but we have a job to do,” she said in a stern
tone. Then, looking at Maurice’s puppy-eye look, she changed her tone. “We can rest for a few
hours, but we’ll search the city later.”

Mocking a salute with his right hand, Maurice quickly replied, “Yes, sir!” But he was glad to
know that she’d at least let him rest for a while.

………………………………...........

Harry and Hermione stayed at the samba festival as long as their feet allowed them to. They did
their best trying to follow the rhythm with their bodies, though it had not been that easy. “Those
dancers must spend countless hours practicing,” Hermione said to Harry.

After such exciting hours, their stomachs began to complain, forcing Harry and Hermione to
search for food. They found a quiet little café just two blocks away from the park. Since the café
offered outside seating, Harry and Hermione took advantage of that.

Once they found a table, Hermione dropped her body tiredly into a chair with a sigh.

“Tired?” asked Harry.

Hermione nodded. “Exhausted!” she replied. “But I feel great. I had never had so much fun.”

Harry smiled, pleased by the happy look on her face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he added after a
few minutes.

“Wasn’t that music wonderful,” continued Hermione. “It gets under your skin and makes you feel …
different, like you’re someone else. It’s like… magic.”

Harry almost chocked on the water he was drinking when he heard her saying that word. He stared
at her. Feeling his gaze on her, Hermione quickly spoke again. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“No,” Harry replied. “Not at all.”

“It’s just that… I happen to believe that there’s magic in every single thing.” Hermione looked
at her hands for a while and then continued. “My mother taught me that. She could find magic
everywhere, even in the simplest things like the sunset, the smile of a child, the love two people
share. She showed me that with a little faith, magical things can happen. We just need to learn how
to distinguish them for what they really are.”

Harry’s face illuminated with a smile. He had listened intently to her words and couldn’t feel
happier hearing her say that. “Your mother was a very smart woman.”

“She was,” agreed Hermione. “I’m sure she could’ve done anything she wanted, but she was not
ambitious. After she got married, she decided to stay home and be with me.”

“That was a smart decision,” said Harry, looking right at her eyes. “She chose to be a mother,
and I can see she did a great job.”

Hermione smiled at that. “You’re right,” she said softly. “She did a wonderful job.”

For a few minutes, they remained silent. Harry could see in Hermione’s face that she was
thinking about her mother and the times they had shared. He was afraid to break into her memories.
Finally, Hermione looked at him and smiled warmly.

“You miss her, uh?” Harry said. “How did she…?”

“In a car accident,” Hermione interrupted before he could finish. “We were in France for my
birthday. It was a rainy day, and the visibility was not good. I don’t remember much about it. I
just recall hearing a loud crashing noise. After that, it all went dark.”

Hermione said nothing for a while, as if trying to remember any more details. Then, she spoke
again. “There’s just one thing I’m not sure if I dreamed or if it really happened. I think my
mother pulled me to her, just before the crash, and… hugged me tight.”

Harry leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his palm. “So you
were in the car, too.”

“Yes,” she responded looking down. “I almost didn’t make it. I was unconscious for days. I even
spent my birthday in the hospital. My father took me back to the UK because he was afraid he might
lose me, too. When I woke up, I found out I was eleven and that I had lost my mum.” After a while,
Hermione added, “It was the worst day of my life.”

Knowing perfectly well how she must have felt, Harry placed a hand over hers and gently caressed
it, trying to soothe her pain away.

After a while, the waiter came and dropped the bill on their table. “I’ll get it,” she said
quickly grabbing the paper. Hermione took her handbag and opened it to extract the money, but she
didn’t find it where it was supposed to be.

“*That’s weird*,” she thought as she searched for her money. “It’s not here!” she said,
looking at Harry. “Harry! My money is not here!”

A couple sitting next to them turned to see her as spoke a bit louder. Harry noticed the
couple’s curious stares and leaned closer to Hermione.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Yes!” She replied firmly. But after Harry placed his hand on her arm, she softened her voice.
“I’m telling you. It’s not here,” she said as she showed him her moneyless handbag.

“Ok,” Harry replied with a sigh. “I’ll get it.” He placed his hand inside his jeans’ pocket, but
his wallet was not there. Feeling a little panicky, he grabbed his backpack from the floor, where
it had been lying, and searched for it. Nothing.

Seeing his expression, Hermione immediately guessed. “Oh, please don’t tell me… It’s gone too.”
Harry nodded silently. “Thomas,” said Hermione. “It must’ve been him.”

Harry groaned inwardly. “I knew the moment I saw him that I shouldn’t trust that bloke,” he
replied, feeling angry with himself for letting his guard down.

“You can’t blame yourself, Harry,” Hermione said quickly. “There was no way for us to guess what
he was up to.”

Still, Harry couldn’t help feeling guilty. “I couldn’t help falling asleep,” he said more to
himself than to Hermione. “I was so tired. I just couldn’t…”

Hermione smiled warmly at him, trying to give him a confidence she didn’t have. She had no idea
how to solve their problem. Meanwhile, Harry’s mind was desperately trying to find a solution
without getting Hermione in trouble.

“I know,” he said after a few silent minutes. “You just walk out and wait for me around the
corner.”

“Leave you alone with this problem?” she asked him. “No way!”

“Hermione, please. Just do as I tell you.” Placing a hand over hers while locking his gaze on
her brown eyes, he spoke reassuringly. “I know what I’m doing.”

Hermione still doubted for a while longer. Finally, she agreed. Biting her lip, she stood up.
After a deep breath, she took her handbag and walked out of the restaurant.



8. A Room for the Night
-----------------------

***A/N:** I know many of you are expecting Harry to magic himself out of that difficult
situation, but he’s surrounded by muggles. So, he’ll have to deal with it the muggle way - you’ll
see! Besides, the storyline I’m following requires for things to happen this way.*

*Also, I know you feel I’m dragging things way too much. I needed you all to see how they get
closer to each other and how their relationship evolves. This chapter Harry begins to put two and
two together and from them on, things will begin to happen.*

*I hope you’ll enjoy it!*

………………………………............................................

8. A Room for the Night

“Okay, Parker! Get your arse up,” Kath said firmly to her partner, while consulting her
wristwatch.

They had been taking a well-deserved break. Maurice had spotted a small, quiet park while they
stopped to get some food. Wanting to stretch his tired body in the grass, he had convinced Kath to
rest there for a few hours. Maurice had been so tired that he’d fallen asleep in no time.

“We’re never going to find Hermione if we remain here,” she added as Maurice rubbed his eyes to
rid them of sleep.

Lazily, Maurice stood up and stretched. “Well…” he finally spoke. “At least I got some sleep. I
needed that!”

“I’m glad,” said Kath in a not very convincing tone. “Now, let’s get going!”

“Damn, lady!” Maurice said. “You sure are stressing about this, aren’t you? I thought you
trusted this Potter bloke?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I trust him or not,” she replied, walking towards the place where
their car was parked. “It’s our responsibility to make sure Hermione is safe and sound, remember?
The sooner we find them, the sooner we’ll head home.”

“Home?” repeated Maurice, running to get in the car just as Kath was starting the engine.
“Personally, I rather like our little American adventure. I’ve never been this side of the ocean,
and I’m quite enjoying it.”

“Mmph!” was Kath’s only reply. “I’ll enjoy it when we get this over with.”

………………………………..........................

Feeling uneasy about the situation, Hermione did what Harry suggested. As innocently as
possible, she had exited the restaurant and was now waiting for him around the corner, shooting
looks at the restaurant’s entrance, waiting for Harry to come out. She was straining her ears just
in case she’d heard people shouting.

About five minutes later, Hermione’s fear became truth as she clearly heard a man’s angry voice
coming from the restaurant. Right after that, Harry appeared before Hermione. As soon as he saw
her, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her firmly to make her run along with him.

Apparently, Harry had not been as successful as Hermione at exiting the restaurant unnoticed.
The waiter had eyed him as he was leaving, and he had quickly run after him calling out for the
police. He was now chasing them, hot on their heels. In Harry and Hermione’s favor, people walking
in the streets moved aside as they ran by instead of stopping them, as the waiter urgently asked
people to do.

But, to their dismay, a police officer did hear the waiter’s cry for help; minutes later, he was
running after Harry and Hermione as well.

Harry made a sudden turn and pulled Hermione across the street. A car passing by was barely able
to stop in time to avoid running them over. Harry and Hermione kept on running without looking
back.

If they had looked back, they would’ve noticed that the people in the car that almost run them
over were Kath and Maurice. Kath’s well-trained eyes recognized the pair. “There!” she yelled.

“Look!” said Maurice, pointing at the police officer and the waiter chasing Harry and Hermione.
“They’re chasing them.”

“C’mon!” replied Kath as she started to run in the same direction.

………………………………………….

Hermione’s heart was beating faster than her feet were running. She couldn’t believe that she
was being chased by a police officer for the second time in just a couple of days. Sure, it was a
bit funny. But it also felt kind of uncomfortable.

“*Maybe we should just stop and explain everything to the officer*,” she thought, throwing
a quick look at Harry. But she pushed that thought rapidly away. “*That wouldn’t keep us from
getting in trouble after all the mayhem we’ve caused. And my father… if he were to know about
this*.”

Still she wished the men following them would just give up because she wouldn’t be able to
continue running much longer. She turned to look at them. Neither of them appeared to be as tired
as she was. “*Oh no! They’re going to catch up with us*.”

Once again, Harry guided them across a street. This time, however, there was no danger of
getting run over since there was little traffic on the street. Just then, Hermione’s eye caught
sight of a big delivery truck parked half a block away from them. She couldn’t help to think how
lucky it’d be if that truck would suddenly get in the way of the police officer.

She hadn’t even finished that thought, when the delivery truck began moving as if its brakes had
suddenly given way. Seconds later, the driver and three men who had been unloading the truck
realized what was happening and started running after it.

Harry turned just in time to see the men running after a truck that was gaining speed down the
street. Amazed by the incident, he stopped running and turned to see Hermione. Her expression did
not show surprise or shock. There was a wide grin on her face.

Wondering what she could be so happy about, he tried to spot the police officer and the waiter
on the other side of the street. It seemed that Hermione’s wishes had come true. The truck – along
with the people chasing the truck – had forced them to stop.

To take advantage of the confusion, Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her inside the
nearest building.

…………………………………………..

Maurice and Kath stopped running as they approached a chaotic street where a delivery truck had
gotten loose and turned over a couple of magazine stands. The driver had been able to get inside
the truck and stop it before any more damage could be done. Fortunately, nobody was hurt.

Maurice overheard one of the men talking about how weird the incident was since the truck’s
brakes were totally fine. Just then, Kath elbowed him to make him turn his attention to a spot were
the same police officer they had been following was now talking to the owner of one of the
destroyed magazine stands.

“C’mon,” she said, pulling his sleeve. “I’ve got to find out why they were chasing
Hermione.”

As soon as the upset man turned away from the police officer, Kath stepped forward. “Excuse me,”
she said to the officer. “I saw you chasing a couple down the street, and I wanted to know
why.”

The policeman shot her a curious look. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” stuttered Kath, not sure how much to tell the officer. But Maurice quickly came to the
rescue.

“You see, officer,” he said while gently squeezing Kath’s arm to give her the hint to follow
along. “She’s our daughter… and she run away… with her boyfriend. We’re just trying to bring her
back home.”

The waiter that had alerted the officer walked up to them just in time to hear Maurice. “You
want to know what your daughter has been up to?” he quickly spat at them. “Your daughter and the
guy she was with left the restaurant without paying!”

“Did she?” Maurice said, faking anger while in reality he was trying to hold back his laughter.
Turning to face Kath, he said, “You see what your daughter’s been up to?”

Kath, however, threw him a killer look.

Regaining control of himself, Maurice pulled out his wallet and spoke to the waiter. “How much
they owe you?”

“Thirty-five dollars,” the waiter replied.

“Okay,” said Maurice pulling two twenty-dollar bills and handing them to the waiter. “Would that
do it?”

Without hesitation, the man took the bills and pocketed them quickly. “You should teach your
daughter some decency,” the waiter spat at him. But before Kath or Maurice had a chance to reply,
he was gone.

……………………………….........................

“Hello!” said a friendly voice from behind Harry and Hermione. Startled, they turned around to
find a plump, short man smiling widely at them. “Do you two need a room?”

“*A room?*” thought Harry in surprise. After a quick look around Harry realized they had
were in the tiny lobby of a hotel.

From the outside, it had looked like a plain two-story building. There was nothing at all that
could tell people it was a hotel: no neon letters, no name anywhere to be seen, no sign that could
attract anyone’s attention.

For that reason, it didn’t surprised Harry to see that the lobby was deserted, except for the
two of them and the man who observed them curiously.

Before Harry’s mouth could even open, Hermione replied to the man inquiry, “Yes… we actually
do.”

Harry shot her a questioning look. What was she thinking? They had no money. How were they going
to pay for a hotel room? They had just walked out of a restaurant without paying. They had been
chased by a police officer, for Merlin’s sake! What was that girl thinking?

After hearing Hermione’s response, the little man’s face illuminated with a smile. “Oh! How
wonderful, my first guests!” he said, clapping his hands together and raising his head to the sky.
“I knew it! Someday, I said to myself, someday they’ll come, my first guests. And here you are! Oh,
my momma’s going to be so happy!”

Harry turned to look at Hermione, a ‘now-what’ look on his handsome face. Hermione smiled
painfully as she bit her lip.

“Uh…” she started trying to interrupt the man’s monolog. Once she had his attention, she spoke.
“We… there’s just a little problem.” The man looked expectantly at her.

Hermione looked imploringly at Harry, hoping he’d take the initiative of talking to the man. But
Harry did not fancy being the one to burst the man’s happy bubble. He simply crossed his arms over
his chest and looked at her with the same expectant expression, waiting to see how she was going to
get herself out of that hole.

Realizing she was not getting any help from Harry, Hermione sighed. “We have no money,” she said
in a whisper, talking to her shoes.

The man’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked from Harry to Hermione, half expecting
them to say it was just a joke. But their expressions told him they were not kidding. “You… you
have no money?” he repeated.

Hermione shook her head.

The man seemed to give it some thought. He scratched his balding head to then crackle his
fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “No money, no room.”

“Please, sir,” Hermione quickly replied, taking a step forward. “We have nowhere to go. We don’t
even know the city. We’re on our way to Chicago, but the train doesn’t leave until tomorrow
morning. Besides…” she said, placing a hand in the man’s arm. “We were robbed on the train! I don’t
even know how we’re going to make it to Chicago…”

The man’s expression began to soften as he listened to Hermione’s tale. “If you let us stay just
this night,” she continued. “We could… we could help out, do some work around for you.”

She cast a look at Harry, who smiled approvingly at her. Once again, the man scratched his head.
Hermione hoped he wouldn’t do that so much or else he was going to pull out the little hair he had
left.

“Only for one night?” the man finally asked.

“Yes,” Hermione quickly replied. “We’d be out of here in the morning.”

After a little more scratching, the man replied, “Alright! But you’d be cleaning the
kitchen.”

“No problem,” Hermione answered, giving him a warm smile.

………………………………..................

“We’re back to zero,” Maurice said to Kath after the waiter left. “They could be anywhere by
now.”

“I can’t believe Potter was so irresponsible to put Hermione in such a dangerous situation,”
Kath said angrily. “Running through the streets like that! We almost run them over with the
car!”

Maurice smiled. “So, I reckon you’re not that impressed by him anymore, are you?” But his smile
faded once Kath threw him a menacing look. Placing an arm over Kath’s shoulders, Maurice pulled her
forward so they could walk back to where they had parked the car. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be
fine.”

“Fine? Maurice, we’ve lost them again!”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But we know they’ll be at the train station tomorrow morning, don’t we?
We’ll just make sure to get there with plenty of time to make sure we catch them this time,
okay?”

Kath simply shook her head.

Just then, Maurice’s mobile phone rang. “Parker here,” he said as he answered the phone, knowing
perfectly well who was calling. “No, sir, we haven’t found her, yet. Of course, we’re doing
everything in our hands…”

Kath made an effort to take the phone from Maurice, but he stopped her. “We have a pretty good
idea where to find her, sir. It just may not happen until tomorrow. No… of course we don’t think
she’s in any danger. Potter is… No, sir. We haven’t been able to get a hold of him; seems like
there may be a problem with his phone. Yes, sir. We’ll keep on trying,” he added, throwing Kath an
annoyed look. “We’ll let you now as soon as we get her.”

……………………………….......

About an hour later, Harry and Hermione were busy working to pay for their room. Ernie, the
hotel’s owner, had asked them to clean the kitchen. The truth was that Ernie didn’t have much for
them to do.

It seemed that he had opened the hotel not that long ago. Business was not going that great. The
place would be totally deserted if it weren’t for Ernie and his mother. Harry and Hermione were the
first ones to occupy a room.

Ernie had offered them some dinner, but since they had eaten not that long ago, they immediately
got to work. Now, Harry was washing the dishes, and Hermione was drying them with a towel.

“I must say, Hermione,” Harry said with a warm smile on his face as he handed her a plate. “I’m
impressed.” After seeing Hermione’s expression, he added, “You got us a place for the night!”

A wide grin appeared on her face. “You see, I’m not that useless.”

“I never said you were,” he added quickly.

“I would like my father to see me now. Although, if he did see me, he’d probably take me back
home in an instant,” she said with a chuckle. “I don’t think he’d be that amused.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “And I’d be in so much trouble…”

“Why would you?” Hermione asked nonchalantly. “It’s not as if it were your responsibility to
look after me. On the contrary, I’m the one who got you in this mess. If I hadn’t dragged you with
me, you wouldn’t be here washing dishes.”

Somehow, Harry felt he’d rather be there washing dishes while chatting with her than anywhere
else. He opened his mouth to voice his feelings, but Ernie’s arrival interrupted him.

“You’re done?” he asked them, looking from one to the other. “Why don’t you two follow me so I
can show you your room.”

“*Our room?*” thought Hermione as she threw Harry a concerned look. His expression
indicated he was wondering the same thing.

They followed Ernie out of the kitchen, back into the tiny lobby and up a set of stairs. Ernie
led them to the second door in the hallway and opened it for them. “Here you go,” he said while
turning the light on. “There’re clean towels in the bathroom.”

Just before leaving the room, Ernie turned around and looked at Hermione. “If you want my momma
to wash your clothes, she always does a load of laundry before bedtime.”

“Thanks,” replied Hermione with a nod, as she cast a look over her dirty pants.

Harry, however, was not listening to them. Since the moment he had stepped into the room, he
hadn’t been able to stop staring at the one bed in the room. Sure, it was big enough for two
people, but to him it seemed way too small. With a final smile and a brief ‘good night’ Ernie
exited the room, closing the door behind him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Hermione announced without even noticing Harry’s look of concern.
She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Minutes later, she opened the door just
enough to peek her head out.

“Harry…” she called out to him. “Hello?” she said in a sarcastic way after getting no response
from him.

“Sorry,” he quickly said, shaking his head. “You need something?”

“Here,” she said, stretching her hand out the door and handing him her clothes. “Give this to
Ernie. And… you may want to do the same,” she added, raising her brows and shooting a critical look
at his equally dirty clothes.

“I’m fine,” he replied rather quickly.

Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders and closed the bathroom door again.

………………………………......

Sooner than Harry expected, the bathroom door opened once again. Perfectly covered by a white
towel, Hermione walked barefoot into the room. A scent of soap immediately invaded the room.
Instinctively, Harry’s eyes admired the view: her wet hair cascading down her back and the pink
flush the hot water had left on her skin.

Unconsciously, he began to wonder what it’d feel like to touch her, to trace the water drops
running down her bare arms with his fingers. Without him realizing what he was doing, he took a
step forward. His green eyes centered on her brown ones.

Suddenly, they heard a loud thump from downstairs followed by Ernie complaining about a broken
lamp.

It was all it took for Harry to regain control of himself. He turned around, trying to hide his
agony from her. “You can take the bed,” he said in, amazingly enough, his calmest voice. “I’ll
just…” He turned around, holding a pillow in his hand and found her staring at him. Was that
disappointment in her eyes? “… sleep in the floor.”

But he wasn’t able to guess as Hermione quickly looked away. She walked to the other side of the
bed and pulled the blankets away. “You don’t have to do that,” she said not looking at him. “The
bed is big enough for both of us.”

She sat down on the bed. Then, holding her towel in place with one hand, she lay down and pulled
the covers over herself. With a half smile, she patted the empty side of the bed and said
teasingly, “I don’t bite.”

Not knowing what strange reason was pulling him towards her, Harry sat tentatively at the edge
of the bed and smiled nervously at her. “*There*,” he thought. “*I can do this. I mean,
we’re two reasonable adults, right?*”

Hermione smiled mischievously as he turned off the lamp on the night table. She felt how the
mattress sunk under Harry’s weight as he lay at the edge of the bed. Hermione shook her head as she
realized Harry was as far away from her as the bed allowed him. Was she that disgusting that he
didn’t even want to be close to her?

She had never being in a situation like this before: in bed, wearing only a towel, with a
handsome man. Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep knowing he was right next to her.
“*Is he going to sleep?*” she wondered. “*What if I just…*” She turned on her side and
slowly moved a hand towards him. “Harry,” she whispered.

But as soon as Harry felt her hand on his arm, he quickly jumped out of the bed. “I… uh,” he
stuttered in the dark. “I’d better… sleep in the floor.”

Hermione sighed. “Okay,” she managed to say, turning her back towards him. “*Yes*,” she
thought. “*I disgust him. He can’t even stand me touching him*.” Making an effort to swallow
the lump in her throat as noiselessly as she could, Hermione shut her eyes and prayed for this
night to end as soon as possible.

…………………………………………….

Neither Harry nor Hermione was able to sleep much that night. Hermione was convinced that Harry
found her undesirable while Harry was aching to touch her.

She had looked so amazingly gorgeous when she stepped out of the bathroom, barely covered by a
towel. It had been a miracle that had kept him from scooping her up in his arms and kissing every
bit of skin on her delicious body.

“*If Ernie hadn’t brought me back to reality, Merlin knows I wouldn’t have been able to stop.
But I can’t do this. I can’t think about her like this. This is just an assignment. She is my
assignment. I’m supposed to be taking care of her, not fantasizing about her. I can’t let things
get out of my hands*.”

But there was one more thing that kept appearing in his mind, one image he could not ignore: the
triumphant grin on Hermione’s face after the run-away truck got in the way of the men following
them.

“*Could she have caused that? But how? It’s not like she has magical skills or something…*”
But just then, another memory came to him. When he and Hermione were speeding away on the
‘borrowed’ motorcycle, several trashcans had gotten in the way of the agents chasing them. And when
they were at Tony’s, Hermione had somehow reached her purse, which he could’ve sworn was far from
her reach.

“*Could she be a witch?*” he wondered, throwing a look in her direction. His green eyes,
now accustomed to the dark, distinguished her sleeping form on the bed. “*No. That can’t be. We
would know if she were a witch, right? I mean, she would’ve attended a magical school for starters.
And being a public figure, it’d be well known within the wizarding community if the Muggle
Minister’s daughter was a witch, right?*”

There had to be another explanation, but no matter how hard he banged his head, he couldn’t come
up with a reasonable explanation for all the weird incidents. He was sure of one thing, though. It
was just too much for it to be mere coincidence. There had to be more to it.



9. Josh
-------

9. Josh

Hermione woke up suddenly as she heard the bathroom door closing. Right after that, she heard
the shower running. It took her a couple seconds to remember that she was in a little hotel in
Columbus, Ohio – a hotel room she had paid for with hard labor as a matter of fact. As she lay flat
on her back, staring at the white ceiling above her, she recalled the previous night. It still hurt
her to realize that Harry, who was making her feel things she had never felt before, didn’t feel
the same way about her. His reaction to her touch had been obvious.

Just then, Hermione heard a soft knock at the door. She threw the blankets aside, gathered the
towel safely around her, and walked to the door. Thinking it could be Ernie, she opened the door
just enough to peek her head out. To her relief, it was Ernie’s mother coming to deliver her clean
clothes. Hermione thanked her and, as soon as she closed the door, hurried to get dressed.

When Harry exited the bathroom about ten minutes later, Hermione was already dressed. She walked
passed him and into the bathroom without saying a word.

………………………………….

Thinking that Harry and Hermione would be taking the 8 a.m. train to Chicago, Kath and Maurice
arrived at the train station shortly after 6 a.m.

“It’s way too early,” complained Maurice. He was having a hard time waking up. The tiredness of
the past couple of days was getting the best of him. “Can’t we wait for one more hour?”

“I want to be there with plenty of time to catch them,” Kath replied, not looking at him. They
were entering the train station, and she was trying to locate a good spot to wait for the pair of
misfits. “I don’t want them to get away once again. I’m tired of chasing after them.”

Maurice nodded silently. “*She’s right*,” Maurice thought. He was also getting tired of
this game and was looking forward to bringing it to a prompt end.

………………………………….

After a delicious breakfast that Ernie’s mother prepared, Harry and Hermione stood up and were
about to leave when Ernie stopped them.

“Wait,” he said, placing a hand in Harry’s arm. “Didn’t you two say you were heading to
Chicago?”

“Yes, we are,” Harry responded.

“And how you plan to get there if you have no money,” Ernie’s mother asked. She smiled at the
young couple as they looked at each other silently. The woman sighed resignedly as she shook her
head. “My Ernie will give you both a lift. Don’t think he’ll take you all the way to Chicago,” she
quickly said. “That’s too far for us! But he’ll get you to the state line at least. That should
help.”

Harry tried to dissuade them, but Ernie wouldn’t take no for an answer. Finally, they agreed to
it and followed Ernie to the street. When Harry saw Ernie’s rackety old car, he doubted it would
take them as far as the end of the street. He was proved wrong, however, when 3 hours later they
arrived at the tiny city of Decatur, Indiana.

………………………..

When the eight-o’clock train left the station, Kath and Maurice realized this affair was not
going to end as easily as they both wanted. The two of them had placed themselves in strategic
points where, they reckoned, they had a good view of the station and the boarding platforms. But
the two people they waited so anxiously for never showed up.

Maurice sighed, resigned to continue exploring America, while Kath paced furiously in front of
him.

“I can’t believe it!” She spat. “They’ve done it again. They didn’t come. I was so sure they
were going to take this train,” she continued her monolog. Maurice, knowing it was better to leave
her alone when she was upset, remained quiet at a cautious distance.

“But, where can they be then? If they’re not taking the train, how are they going to get there?
Unless…” She suddenly stopped and turned to face Maurice. “Why would they not pay at the
restaurant?” she asked him.

But before Maurice could respond, she continued, “Because they had no money, right? I mean, it’s
completely out of character for Hermione to do something like that. There’s no other explanation.”
Maurice simply nodded. Kath didn’t really seem to be expecting him to reply anyway. “And… if they
had no money to pay for dinner, they obviously had no money to take the train.”

After that, Kath fell silent again and resumed her pacing around. Maurice crossed his arms over
her chest, waiting for her to finish her analysis of the situation. He just was not in the mood –
and he didn’t have the energy – to provide any input.

Finally, Kath stopped pacing and walked towards him. “C’mon,” she said as she grabbed him by the
sleeve. “We have to go back to that street where we lost them.”

“Why?” Maurice managed to say.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

…………………………………………..

Hermione had remained silent during the three hours they’d spent in Ernie’s car. In fact, she
had not talked at all to Harry other than the absolute necessary. Harry realized she must be upset
about the previous night, but he could not discuss it in front of Ernie. So, when Ernie finally
waved them good-bye and headed back home, Harry decided to break the silence.

Ernie had dropped them off at the outskirts of town, hoping another good Samaritan would pick
them up and drive them a little closer to their final destination.

Harry thought they could walk to town and convince Hermione to call her father. Hermione,
however, had another idea in mind. She started walking at the side of the road, leaving the town
behind.

“Hermione!” Harry called her. When she didn’t stop – on the contrary, she hurried her steps – he
had no choice but to run after her. “Hermione,” he repeated once he caught up with her. “What are
you doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m walking.”

“I can see that,” he replied with a look of exasperation. “I thought we should walk back to town
and look for a telephone so you could…”

“Call my father?” she interrupted him. “Forget it! I’m not going to cry for help at the first
sign of trouble. If you want to go back on your own and find your own way home, it’s fine with me,”
she added as she continued walking hurriedly. “I can get to Chicago by myself.”

Harry stopped. “You’re a stubborn, spoiled little prat!” he shouted to her back.

Hermione stopped and remained motionless for a while, breathing deeply, her fists tightened. She
turned to face him, but she didn’t get any closer. “If that’s what you think, then why the bloody
hell have you been following me around the country? Nobody forced you to come with me.”

Harry passed a hand through his hair exasperatedly. How could he respond to her without letting
go the real reasons for his behavior? Seeing that he was not going to give her an answer, Hermione
turned around and continued walking.

“Brilliant!” Harry said to himself, shaking his head. “This is un-fucking-believable.” He took a
deep breath and ran after her. “Wait!” he called out. But Hermione continued walking without
looking back. Once he caught up, he held her arm tightly. “Hermione…”

She quickly pulled her arm out of his grip. “I thought you didn’t want to touch me,” she said
furiously.

“What?”

“Wasn’t that the reason why you slept in the floor last night?” she quickly added.

Harry looked silently at her for a while. The reason why she was so upset dawned on him. She
thought he didn’t like her. A half smile appeared on his handsome face. “*She cares about whether
I like her or not*,” he thought happily.

Seeing the grin on his face, Hermione assumed he was laughing at her. Angrily, she turned around
and tried to resume her walking. This time, however, Harry was ready for her, and he quickly
grabbed hold of her arm to stop her.

“Let go of me!”

“Hermione, it’s not like that,” he said in a soft voice. He smiled, trying to show her how
truthful he was, but Hermione was too upset to see it. She misread his expression.

“Look,” she said with a calmer voice. “If you don’t like girls, you just had to say it.”

His masculine pride hurt, Harry immediately let go of her arm and stood straight, raising his
chin. “Hey! I do like girls,” he quickly replied.

“You just don’t like this one,” she said. Right after that, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes,
she turned around and walked away, this time at a slower pace. Without turning back to see him, she
continued talking. “All this time I thought I was alone for lack of opportunity,” she shouted to
him. “Thanks for proving me wrong!”

Harry shook his head. He felt torn in two. In one hand, he was more than happy to see that she
liked him as much as he liked her. But he also knew he had to wait until his assignment was over to
make a move and accept his feelings to her.

Silently, he started walking after her. “Why don’t you just quit this stupid game and go back
home? You don’t have to prove anything.”

At those words, Hermione stooped. “I’m not a quitter! If you’re tired of following me… go.
Leave! I don’t need you.” She quickly turned to walk away. Just then, she spotted a group of people
sitting at the shade of some trees and headed in their direction.

…………………………………..

When Kath and Maurice arrived back at the street where they had lost sight of Harry and Hermione
the day before, Kath spent several minutes surveying the area. To Maurice, she looked like an old
hunter dog, sniffing around to find the trace lost.

Suddenly, she stopped right in front of Ernie’s little hotel. Without a single word to Maurice,
she went straight to the door and pushed it open. Maurice hurried after her. When they stepped into
the tiny lobby, Maurice was surprised to realize the building was a hotel. He wouldn’t have guessed
it from its outside look.

Seconds after they walked in, an old woman came in from another room. “Hello? Can I help you,”
she asked in a friendly way.

“I hope so,” Kath whispered. She walked up to the woman while taking a photo out of her pocket.
“We’re looking for this young lady. She’s accompanied by a tall…”

“Oh yes!” The woman said immediately after seeing the picture. Maurice opened his eyes wide and
looked at Kath. “They were here.”

She quickly went on to tell them that her son was driving them right at that moment towards the
state line. She informed them – without even asking why they wanted to know all this – about how
they had paid for their room by washing dishes due to their lack of money and about their plans to
get to Chicago.

After getting the information they needed, Kath and Maurice exited the building, mumbling a
quick thank you.

…………………………………….

Four hippie-looking guys and two girls were sitting around a campfire at the side of the road.
An old, rusty van was parked next to them. An old frying pan sat on the fire filled with what
seemed to be beans, and several empty beer cans littered the ground. When they saw Hermione
approaching them, a tall, broad guy stood up to wave at her.

“Hello, there,” he called out to Hermione.

Without a second thought, Hermione shook the hand that the big guy stretched out to her. “Josh
here,” the guy said. “What’s your name sweet pie?”

“Hermione,” she said just as Harry stood next to her. “And this is Harry,” she added in an
annoyed way.

“Welcome Hermione and Harry to our little piece of heaven,” he said with a friendly smile after
introducing his friends to them. “Would you like a drink?” he offered, grabbing a beer can from an
almost empty cooler.

“Sure,” Hermione quickly replied.

“Hermione…” Harry tried to warn her, placing a hand on her arm. Hermione, however, quickly moved
away from him and sat next to Josh.

A blonde girl Josh had introduced as Liz pulled Harry’s hand and invited him to sit next to her.
Harry gave her an annoyed look, but she ignored it. She started asking him all sort of questions,
but Harry was paying no attention to her. His green eyes were focused on Hermione and the gorilla
next to her.

Hermione’s laughter, which for some reason Harry thought was a bit exaggerated, echoed through
the campsite. Apparently Josh was telling her a funny story of some sort. Hermione’s brown eyes
made contact with Harry’s for a second, but she quickly turned all her attention back to Josh.

The hippie lot offered Harry and Hermione food. Since they hadn’t eaten anything since early
that morning, they accepted; but Harry didn’t eat much. Somehow, he didn’t seem able to swallow the
food.

“So,” Josh said after taking a good sip at his beer. “Where are you two comrades heading
to?”

“Chicago,” Hermione informed him. “I’m going to visit a friend of mine. We haven’t seen each
other in ages, but I know she’s going to be sooo happy to see me.”

Harry looked at Hermione from the corner of his eye. The beer Hermione had consumed seemed to be
raising her spirits. She was turning into the can’t-stop-talking Hermione he had met outside the
New York’s underground club. He knew that wasn’t such a good thing. She was bound to say more than
she was supposed to.

He stood up, ignoring Liz’ complaint, and headed to the place where Hermione sat. “We need to
talk,” he said. Then, without waiting for her reply, he grabbed Hermione by the elbow, made her
stand, and steered her aside. He had been so fast that Hermione hadn’t even had a chance to
react.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, taking the empty can out of her hands.

“Hey…” she complained with a loud voice.

Josh quickly stepped forward. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now.”

Harry turned to face him, exasperation written all over his handsome face. “Stay out of
this.”

“No, you stay out of this,” Hermione said to Harry. “I was having an enjoyable conversation with
my friend Josh here.”

“Listen,” interfered Josh. “I see you two have issues and I can see you’re not very good at
dealing with Hermione.” Harry was about to interrupt him, but Josh quickly continued. “So… since
you two are heading to Chicago, what do you say we give you guys a lift? We’re gonna head out in
about an hour. I mean, we’re not going all the way to Chicago. That’s way out of league, but we can
get you as far a Peru. We’ll turn south from there.”

Harry would’ve loved to say no to Josh, but he had to admit they needed the lift. They were in
the middle of the road, and Hermione was not likely to go back to the town willingly. There was no
other choice but to keep with their original plan. After a deep sigh, Harry nodded his head.

“Alright, just don’t let her drink any more,” he finally said.

Josh chuckled at that, placed a hand over Hermione’s shoulders, and took her away from Harry.
Seeing her with Josh was more than he could take, but there was nothing he could do at that moment.
He contented himself with keeping a close watch on the two of them.

………………………………………..

Knowing that Ernie had planned to drive Harry and Hermione all the way to Decatur, Indiana, Kath
and Maurice headed in that direction. They arrived at the small town around noon. Kath stopped the
first person she saw and asked where the train station was. She was informed, however, that there
was no train station in town.

Maurice laughed when he heard the news. “It doesn’t surprise me,” he said between laughs. “Look
around you! This is the smallest town I’ve ever seen. Their population must be like… 100
people.”

“Would you stop it?” said Kath, although she couldn’t help chuckle as well. “Someone could hear
you.” But Maurice’s laugh was way too contagious. Inevitably, Kath started laughing as well.

“Anyhow,” said Maurice once they had been able to stop laughing, “What do you want a train
station for? They have no money!”

Kath and Maurice looked at each other and started laughing once again.

……………………………………………

The two- hour drive seemed like an eternity to Harry. He was sitting on the back seat with Liz
glued to his side while Hermione was on the front seat next to Josh, who was driving the old van.
Just before taking the road south, Josh pulled over. As soon as he could, Harry got out of the van
and opened Hermione’s door so she could do the same.

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Josh asked Hermione. “There’s not much to see in
Peru.”

Hermione laughed at his words. “That’s funny. The town’s name is Peru – just like the
country.”

“That’s right,” Josh replied. “There’s also a town called England. If you stay with me, I could
take you there,” he said, placing a hand on Hermione’s knee.

Harry, seeing Josh’s hand on Hermione, quickly grabbed Hermione’s arm and firmly pulled her out
of the car. Hermione let Harry drag her out and simply smiled at Josh. “Sorry,” she said to Josh as
she stepped out. “It would’ve been fun…”

Before she could say anything else, Harry pulled her away from the van. Hermione waved good-bye
at Josh and the others as they went back to the road. Her attitude changed completely when she
turned to face Harry. “Let go of me!” she said firmly, pulling her arm out of Harry’s grip.

Harry let go of her, but said nothing. Hermione threw him a killer look and started walking
away. “Hermione…” Harry called out. She stopped and turned around to face him.

“I can’t believe you were so rude to them!” she spat at him. “You should be thankful they helped
us out.” Harry rolled his eyes and made a disbelieving grunt. “They gave us a lift. They fed
us.”

“Sure,” said Harry sarcastically. “Overcooked beans!”

This time, it was Hermione rolling her eyes. “So, what? At least he was kind to us.”

“Oh, he was kind!”

“Yes,” replied Hermione, raising her chin. “He was kind and friendly and funny and…”

“If he was all those things,” Harry interrupted as he couldn’t take her compliments to that
scumbag called Josh, “…then why don’t you go ask him to take care of you and drive you to
Chicago!”

Hermione, not expecting this from Harry, made an effort to hide her disappointment. She
tightened her lips and looked away. “Maybe I will,” she declared firmly and turned her back to
Harry so he couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes.

For a couple of minutes, Hermione didn’t move or speak. She half expected, half feared that
Harry would leave, abandoning her alone in the middle of nowhere. She was about to turn around to
confirm if her suspicion was true when the weight of a grown man bumped into her, almost sinking
her into the ground. The wonderful manly scent that invaded her senses told her it was Harry
hugging her so tightly she was having trouble breathing.

“You think I’m going to let you go that easily?” she heard him whisper in her ear, which caused
her to freeze on the spot. His words sent out shivers down Hermione’s spine. “You think I’m going
to leave you like that? Don’t you see the only reason I dislike that idiot is because he dared
placed his dirty hands on you?”

Hermione’s throat suddenly went dry. Not just Harry’s words were having an effect on her, but
his sensual tone, his closeness, and even the warmth of his body were making her knees tremble.

“Can’t you see I hate it when Josh, or any other bloke, gets close to you? Can’t you see I want
to be the only one?”

Hermione finally turned her head to look at him. “You do?” she asked softly. “I thought… you
didn’t even want to touch me.”

Harry placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around. They were standing so
close to each other that their noses almost touched. Harry centered his gorgeous green eyes on her
brown ones.

“I’ve been dying to touch you since the first time I saw you.”

Hermione smiled widely at that. She was glad to hear she was not the only one feeling like
that.

“I’ve been dying…” he said as he leaned even closer to her, “…to kiss you.”

And he finally did. He placed a soft tender kiss on her closed lips. Hermione closed her eyes as
that sweet kiss made her head twirl and her knees weak. Harry pulled away and smiled at the dreamy
expression on her face. Surprised to see he had retreated so quickly, Hermione opened her eyes.

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked teasingly.

Harry’s face twisted in a half smile. He then went back to her lips, but this time more
fiercely. He nibbled and gently bit her lips. Hermione opened her mouth, inviting him in. Harry
didn’t wait one second, but took the opportunity to explore her mouth and savor her sweet flavor.
After several minutes, the need to breathe made them pull away.

Harry rested his forehead on hers and smiled warmly. He didn’t care what happened next. Even if
having a relationship with the person he was supposed to protect caused him problems at work, he
didn’t care. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Hermione felt the same way about him, and he
was not going to let anything or anybody take her away from him. He was certain he’d do anything
just to kiss her again.



10. At the Nathan's
-------------------

10. At the Nathan’s

Harry was happy to say the least. He and Hermione were sitting under a tree at the side of a
quite road. She was lying on the grass with her head resting on Harry’s legs. They had been sitting
there for almost two hours, but they felt no hurry to leave.

He still couldn’t believe what had happened between them. Hermione liked him just as much as he
liked her, and that was satisfying. It had been so long since he had felt this close to a girl.
Sure he had gone out on dates, but none of the relationships had ever lasted more than a couple of
dates. He would quickly find out that those girls were just interested in the ‘Boy Who Lived’, and
that they didn’t really know – or even seemed interested in knowing – the real Harry.

Fortunately, Hermione didn’t know that part of his life, which meant she saw him as a regular
bloke. And that felt great. He sure was thankful to Mr. Weasley for getting him this job. Okay,
perhaps he was going to be reprimanded by Moody. How many times had he told Harry never to mix
business with pleasure? But he couldn’t help it. It had just happened. And he wasn’t going to back
away from it now that he could finally have the opportunity to enjoy a normal relationship.

There was only one thing troubling him: Could Hermione be a witch without knowing it?

Things would be so much easier if she were a witch. “*Not that I wouldn’t like her if she was
a Muggle*,” he thought. But he couldn’t deny that if she had magical skills, it would allow him
to bring her into his world much more easily. He just needed to find out whether she had magic in
her, but how?

He couldn’t just ask, ‘Hey Hermione, are you a witch?’ He could clearly imagine the reaction a
question like that could generate in a girl. There had to be another way.

He was just about to start pondering on that, when a car passed by – the first one in more than
an hour. The man driving the car must have spotted the pair because he stopped abruptly and backed
op to where they were sitting.

Harry saw that the car was occupied by an old couple. The man smiled at him, while the lady
talked to them. “Do you two need some help?”

Hermione rose after hearing the lady speak. She turned to face Harry, waiting for him to
respond.

“Uh… yeah,” Harry finally replied.

“Where’re you headed?” the man asked them.

“Chicago,” Hermione said, although she had a feeling the nice couple was not going in that
direction.

“Chicago… That’s a long way from here, especially if you plan to walk all the way there,” the
man said mockingly.

“Where are you planning to spend the night?” the lady interrupted. “You don’t intend to sleep
out here, do you?” Harry and Hermione looked at each other. They hadn’t realized that the night was
soon approaching. “C’mon!” she continued. “Hop in. We live just twenty minutes from here. I’m sure
we can make some room for you two.”

For some reason, Harry felt good about the couple. They inspired trust. He stood up and helped
Hermione to do the same. Minutes later, they were driving away with the old couple.

By the time they reached the house, Harry and Hermione had found out the names of such
good-hearted people. They were Keith and Angela Nathan, and they had lived in that little house
outside town since the day they got married. They had two grown children, but they both were
married and lived in the state capitol.

Hermione quickly warmed up to them and told them about their adventure, carefully leaving her
identity aside. They listened intently and showed concern for their problem. They were now having
coffee in Keith and Angela’s kitchen. “You can spend the night here, and tomorrow we’ll figure out
a way to help you get to Chicago.”

“Thank you very much,” Hermione said to them. “We really appreciate your generosity.”

“Don’t mention it,” Angela said, waving a hand to disregard her words. “Follow me. I’ll show you
where you’re going to sleep.”

She led them to the second floor. Hermione was to sleep in the room of Angela’s daughter. Then,
she took Harry to the room that used to be her son’s. “I’m sure I can find a new pair of pants for
you,” she said to Harry, looking at his dirty pants. “My son still has some clothes here.” She
walked to the closet and dug out a pair of jeans and a cotton t-shirt. “Here! I guess this will do
the trick.”

Harry smiled warmly and thanked her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. She was staring at his
face in a way that made Harry feel uncomfortable. “What did you say your name was?” she asked.

“Harry,” he responded.

“Harry… Potter?” she said tentatively.

Harry’s mouth fell open. “How do you…”

“Oh, I knew it!” she said. “The moment I saw you, I knew you looked like the great Harry Potter,
the savior of the wizarding world.” She grabbed Harry’s hand and caressed it enthusiastically.
“Dear Merlin! What an honor.”

“You… you’re…” Harry whispered, hoping Hermione wouldn’t hear Angela’s words.

“Yes, dear,” she replied, nodding her head. “Of course! Why do you think we live here, out of
town?”

As she continued to speak in a loud voice, Harry leaned closer to her. “Please,” he said. “Don’t
say anything. My friend doesn’t know.”

“Oh!” Angela replied, covering her mouth with a hand. “She’s a Muggle!” she whispered. Then,
winking an eye at Harry, she added, “Don’t worry. I’ll warn Keith as well.”

She continued to smile and caress Harry’s hand until he asked if he could take a shower.
Slightly embarrassed, Angela finally let go of his hand and showed him where the bathroom was.

While Harry was enjoying a much-needed shower, he smiled as he remembered Angela’s excitement.
He had not expected to be recognized in this country. Of course, he knew there were wizards and
witches all over the world – he knew a few of them. Just then, an idea came to his mind.

Hurriedly, he finished his shower, got dressed, and exited the bathroom. Hermione was waiting
for him in the hallway. “Hey,” Harry said, checking her expression. He was glad to see she showed
no signs of having heard the conversation he had had with Angela.

“I’m going to shower, too,” Hermione informed him.

“Good,” he replied.

She smiled at him, stood on her toes to place a kiss on his lips, and then entered the bathroom.
Harry sighed. “*Perfect*,” he thought. That gave him the opportunity to talk to Mr. Nathan
freely.

Harry walked downstairs and found Mr. Nathan sitting in his living room, reading a book. As soon
as he saw Harry, Mr. Nathan stood up and embraced him. “I never thought I’d have to pleasure to
meet you!” he said.

Harry smiled at him and gently broke the embrace. “Listen,” he said. “I want to ask you
something.”

“Anything!” Mr. Nathan quickly said. “Just ask.”

“Well, I was wondering if your fireplace is connected to…”

“To the network?” he interrupted Harry. “Of course it is! You need to contact someone? Go
ahead,” he added before Harry could respond. “It’s all yours.” Right after that, he exited the room
to give him some privacy.

Wasting no time, Harry headed to the fireplace. Right next to it, he found a small pot sitting
on the floor, containing floo powder. He threw a handful at the fireplace. “Professor McGonagall’s
office,” he said, sticking his head into the green flames.

Soon after, the Hogwarts Headmistress’ office came into view. The familiar room seemed almost
exactly as it had been when Professor Dumbledore was the Headmaster. One of the few changes was
that his portrait hung on the wall like all the other past Headmasters and Headmistresses.

Professor McGonagall was at her desk, writing on a piece of parchment. She placed her quill down
when she realized someone’s head had appeared on her fireplace. “Potter!” she exclaimed.

“Hello, Professor,” he greeted.

“It’s good to see you,” she greeted back. “Just yesterday Arthur was telling me you were abroad
in a special assignment. Are you back home?”

“No, actually that’s why I need to talk to you,” he continued. “I need your help.”

“What can I do for you?” she asked, leaning forward curious to hear what he was about to tell
her.

In as few words as he could, Harry told Professor McGonagall about his current assignment,
protecting the Muggle Prime Minister’s daughter. The Headmistress looked at him curiously. It was
not common for the Minister of Magic to provide this kind of support to his Muggle counterpart.

“Do you know if the magical quill at Hogwarts has ever failed to register a birth? Or has any
acceptance letter ever failed to be delivered?” Harry asked.

“You of all people should know that better than anybody,” she replied. “The acceptance letters
will never stop from coming until the person they’re addressed to reads them. As for the magical
quill, it certainly never fails. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I have reasons to believe that Ms. Granger may have magical powers.”

Professor McGonagall remained silent for a while, pondering this information. “I’m sure you know
that some Muggles have been able to develop their brain’s capacity to higher levels,” she finally
said. “That provides them special skills, which have nothing to do with magic.”

“It’s more than that,” Harry pressed. “Trust me, Professor. I really think we should look into
it. I don’t think she’s aware of her own abilities, and it’d be great if I, I mean, we could help
her to develop those abilities to their fullest potential.”

The Headmistress smiled warmly at him. “I see you have a real interest in this. I’ll contact
some people, then. I’ll keep you informed.”

After thanking the Headmistress for her assistance and telling her that she could contact him at
the Nathan’s – at least for the next 12 hours – he said good-bye.

………………………………………..

Back in the town of Decatur, Kath and Maurice were still trying to figure out where Hermione
could be. They had asked around hoping that someone would be able to tell them what new direction
she could’ve taken. However, nobody in town seemed to recognize the picture Kath was showing
them.

“Now, what?” Maurice asked.

Kath remained silent for a while, analyzing their options. “Well, we may not know where she is
right now, but we do know where she’s heading,” she stated as she paced around. “I say we head out
in that direction and hope for the best.” Turning to Maurice, she added, “Just keep trying Potter’s
mobile phone.”

Maurice nodded as he took out his mobile phone to dial Harry’s number, as Kath suggested.
“Nothing,” he informed her after a while.

Sighing in frustration, Kath got in the car and, after Maurice got in, took the road to Chicago,
hoping this little adventure would soon come to an end.

………………………………………….

After enjoying the excellent dinner that Angela cooked, Harry and Hermione went outside for a
while. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly above them. The stars could easily be seen
because the Nathan’s house was located away from the town. But the pair of lovebirds would’ve seen
stars even if they were in Las Vegas, surrounded by neon lights. Love made wonders…

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” Hermione said, looking up at the sky.

“Beautiful,” Harry repeated, not removing his eyes from her.

Feeling his penetrating gaze on her, Hermione turned to him with a smile on her face. Looking
into the green of his eyes, she realized she could easily get lost in them. He had such piercing
eyes that looked right through her, deep into her soul.

In a moment of doubt, Hermione closed her eyes, wondering how further she should allow him in.
But she quickly opened them again, realizing it was useless. She was already falling for him. Right
that minute, with his arms around her and his forehead resting on hers, she decided to let her
feelings take control.

She wanted to experience and enjoy all the wonderful things love had to offer. There was no
reason to be afraid. She had always lived cooped up in a bubble, longing for a normal life. This
was her chance, and she was not going to walk away.

Determined to take the plunge, she pulled away to look into his eyes, stood in her toes, brought
her lips to his, and kissed him with all she had.

Harry gasped into her mouth, surprised by her reaction and oblivious to the swirl of thoughts in
her head. But he quickly responded to her with the same intensity, vanishing the shadows of her
doubts. With one kiss, he reassured her silently that he would also devote himself to her.

……………………………………………………….

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. His heart was too full of emotion and his mind was restless.
Lying in bed, his hands under his head, he thought about Hermione. He still couldn’t believe his
luck. She was such a smart, funny and adventurous girl – not to mention how beautiful she was, with
her shiny brown eyes and her bouncing curls.

Harry smiled, remembering how wonderful it had felt to hug her tightly. Her body seemed to fit
into is arms perfectly. It had been so hard to let go. Hours could pass by without him being aware
of anything but Hermione in his arms.

Harry glanced at the door with a half smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to see her. Knowing
she was just across the hall was unnerving. But he knew he had to control his hormones. He didn’t
want to scare her away, acting like a horny arse.

He was determined to make things work; he was willing to wait as long as she needed. He promised
himself he wouldn’t do anything to ruin what promised to be the most wonderful thing in his
life.

He stood up and walked to the open window. It was still early, but the clear sky promised it’d
be a beautiful day. As he inhaled deeply, his lungs filled up with crisp morning air.

Wanting to release all the tension of his body, he put his shirt back on and left the room,
planning to take a walk. But as he stepped into the living room, something familiar called his
attention: green flames in the fireplace.

“Potter, at last!”

“Professor McGonagall,” he said as he walked up to the fireplace and kneeled on the old rug.

“This is the third time I try talking to you,” she continued.

“Do you have any information for me?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder to make sure he
was alone in the room.

“I sure do,” the Headmistress replied. “And it was no easy job, I must tell you Potter. I had to
contact an old friend of mine at the French Magical Ministry. Only she could access certain
information.”

“The French Ministry?” Harry repeated, trying to digest McGonagall’s words.

“Perhaps I should start from the beginning,” she said tentatively. “Potter, it turns out that
your intuition was correct. Ms. Granger is indeed a witch. As a matter of fact, her mother was one
of the greatest witches Hogwarts has ever seen.”

“Her mother was at Hogwarts?”

“Head Girl,” she said, nodding her head. “Marie Vaughn was the best of her generation. She was a
smart and bright young lady. I always thought she’d do great things, but…”

“But…” Harry urged her to continue.

“Well, I don’t have all the details. I didn’t have any contact with her after she left Hogwarts.
I do know that she withdrew from the magical word after she married a Muggle.”

“Withdrew?”

“Yes,” she continued. “Marie left it all behind and became the wife of a Muggle until the day of
her death. I didn’t know until now that the Muggle she married was the Prime Minister.”

“But, what about Hermione?” Harry interrupted. “Why doesn’t she know? What happened to her
acceptance letter? And, does her father know all this?”

“I can tell you only what I know. Hermione’s name was recorded at the time of her birth.
However, her letter never went out because, according to our records, she died on the same day her
mother did.”

Seeing the open-mouthed expression in Harry’s face, the Headmistress continued before he could
recover his ability to talk.

“I know, I know. Here’s where my French friend comes into action. I did some research about
Marie’s death, and when I found out it had happened in France, I contacted my friend Emily Bonnet.
Pulling some strings, Emily was able to dig into it, but I must tell you there isn’t a lot of
information. Important details are missing.”

Harry nodded his head, waiting for her to continue.

“My friend looked for information in both magical and Muggle reports. The accident took place in
a Muggle area, so there was a police report filed. According to the magical reports, Hermione was
in the car when her mother died, but it doesn’t mention Hermione’s condition. The Muggle police
report only indicates that she was seriously injured. But both reports failed to give any more
details. Since Hermione has always lived as a Muggle, I contacted Dean Thomas. I knew his job as
Muggle Liaison put him in an advantageous position to find this kind of information. With his and
Emily’s findings, I was able to come up with a tentative answer.”

Once again, Harry looked over his shoulder. Seeing the area was clear, he moved closer to the
fireplace. “What do you reckon happened?” he asked, anxiety in his voice.

“About two days after the accident. Hermione was transferred to a private Muggle hospital in
Scotland. I honestly can’t believe they actually moved her being in such a delicate condition, but
Muggles do a lot of things I can’t understand…”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“While Hermione was fighting for her life, she was in fact at the edge of death, something
important was taking place in London. Her name was changed.”

“What?”

“Hermione was born as Hermione Jane Granger,” McGonagall continued. “Before she turned 11, her
name was changed to Hermione Marie Granger.”

“Who changed her name?” Harry asked.

“Dean found a request to change her name signed by Mr. Richard Granger, her father.”

Harry tried to remember if Hermione had ever mentioned to him that her name had been changed
when she had talked about the accident. He was almost certain she had not said anything of that
matter. “Why would his father change her name?” he asked more to himself.

“I can’t answer that,” the Headmistress said, thinking he had directed the question to her.
“What I can tell you is that as a consequence of that name change, Hermione’s acceptance letter was
never sent. I can’t quite understand this myself, but somehow during the day of the accident and
her 11th birthday, Hermione’s name was erased from the registry. The magical quill
marked her as deceased. Thus, her letter was never sent and she never found out about her magical
skills.”

“I can’t understand how the magical quill was fooled by a change of name,” Harry said, passing a
hand through his hair.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that the magical quill was fooled, Potter,” the Professor said in a
reprimanding way. “After all, a part of Hermione did die in that accident along with her
mother.”

Harry pondered the information he had just been given for a while. Then a thought came to his
mind. “Do you think her father knew that changing her name would cause all this?”

“My question would be: Was he aware of his wife’s magical abilities? Did he realize that their
daughter had inherited her mother’s talent?” McGonagall added. “You know magical kids sometimes
make things happened as they don’t know how to control their magic, yet. But that varies from child
to child. Some youngsters do not give any sign of magic until their early teens.

What concerns me, Potter, is that if you were able to spot it in her, then her magic must be
spilling out. Whether it happens with or without her knowledge, I don’t know. But she needs to
learn how to deal and control her magic. Otherwise, she could be a danger to herself or
others.”

“I know,” Harry replied. “I believe she’s somewhat aware of her magic, but I don’t know if she
consciously knows she’s making things happen.”

“You must talk to her, Potter. I don’t know how close you’ve gotten to her in these past days,
but you must confront her. It may take a while for her to accept it, but if you say she knows
there’s something special about her she may be ready for it. Either way, she needs to face her
truth and take some responsibility for her skills. I’d be glad to refer her to a professor who
could provide some private lessons. Oh, and I can also put her in contact with her mother’s best
friend during school, Constance Dickens. She may be able to give more details about Marie’s life
and her decision to leave the magical world. I believe they maintained contact even after Marie’s
wedding. Constance is a great woman, and I’m sure she’d be glad to meet Hermione.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. “As always, you’ve been of great assistance.”

“I’m just glad to help, Potter. And please, do come visit. We will all be happy to see you. I
believe a heart-broken Myrtle still cries her heart out whenever someone mentions your name.”

Harry chuckled. “Myrtle doesn’t need an excuse to cry.”

The Headmistress smiled warmly at him. “Good luck, Potter,” she said just as her face
disappeared amidst the green flames.

Harry shook his head, remembering the time he had met Moaning Myrtle in the Prefect’s bathroom
at Hogwarts. With that image still in his head, he stood up, thinking he could now enjoy his walk.
But he didn’t even take a step away from the fireplace. As he turned around, he found a dumbstruck
Hermione standing noiselessly in front of him.



11. Secrets Revealed
--------------------

11. Secrets Revealed

The morning sunlight was dancing on the lacy curtains as a gentle breeze came in through the
open window. A fresh morning scent filled the room. Hermione began to wake up as the flowers from
the flowerpots sitting on the windowsill opened their petals to a new day.

It took her a few seconds to recall where she was. Her brown eyes looked around the room. Oh
yes, she was at the Nathan’s house! And just yesterday, she and Harry had finally acted on their
feelings for each other. A smile appeared on her face as she remembered how wonderfully perfect it
had felt to be in his arms and to be kissed by him.

A soft blush reddened her cheeks as she remembered the softness of his lips and the warmth of
his tongue. She brought a hand up to her mouth and ran a finger across her lips, recalling the
tingling sensation.

Eager to taste his flavor once more, she tossed the covers aside and quickly got dressed.
Wondering if he’d still be in bed, she knocked on his door. But after getting no response, she
peeked and saw that the room was empty. Hermione smiled, seeing that Harry had already made his
bed.

She reckoned he must be outside taking a morning walk, so she went down the stairs. When she was
half way down, she heard voices coming from the living room. One of them belonged to Harry, but
Hermione didn’t know who the other one belonged to. It was a woman’s voice, but it didn’t seem to
be Angela’s.

As she headed to the living room, she spotted Harry leaning by the fireplace. Suddenly, Hermione
saw something that made her freeze on the spot: The fireplace was lit, but the flames were a weird
shade of green. A woman’s head floated amidst those strange-looking flames. And, on top of it all,
Harry was talking to the head.

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor as her mind frantically tried to find a logical explanation to such
weird sight. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing reasonable came to her.

Just then, the conversation seemed to be over; the green flames disappeared, and Harry stood up.
Hermione tried to speak, to ask what it was she had just seen, but no sound came out. As Harry
started to walk towards her, Hermione – without knowing why – ran out the door, not giving him a
chance to talk.

The image of the head in the fireplace seemed glued to Hermione’s inner eye. She hadn’t even
noticed that Harry was chasing her and that he would soon catch up with her. Indeed, Harry quickly
caught up and grabbed hold of her arm to make her stop.

“Hermione, wait!” he pleaded as she tried to pull her arm free.

Not being able to loosen his grip on her, Hermione sighed resignedly and stood still, looking at
the ground.

“I, uh…” Harry stuttered as if he didn’t know where to begin. He knew he had to tell her what
Professor McGonagall had just told him. But he would’ve liked to have some time to think things
through and figure out the best way to disclose the news.

Hermione slowly looked up at him. Harry was saddened to see there was a hint of fear in her
eyes. “Listen,” he finally said after taking a deep breath. Still he didn’t let go of her arm,
afraid she’d run away before listening to what he had to say. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Hermione looked away, not sure whether she wanted to hear him. She had seen a head, a head! What
if Harry was some serial killer who liked to decapitate his victims? But then she remembered he had
been talking to the head.

“I’m sure you must wonder what it was you just saw,” she heard him saying. Hermione turned to
see him. “I can explain everything.”

*“Could he be a cold-blood killer?”* she wondered, looking into his eyes. But deep down,
she knew he didn’t fit that description.

Since she didn’t respond, Harry assumed she was willing to listen. “You see, I… uh, I’m a
wizard.”

Hermione’s mouth opened wide as she furrowed her brow. “A… a wizard?” she was finally able to
say, not sure of what he meant by that. “You mean you’re one of those people who entertain kids at
birthday parties?”

Harry made an effort to keep from laughing. “No,” he said. “I mean the real kind.”

Hermione looked skeptically at him, trying to guess if he was trying to pull her leg. “Prove
it,” she said after a while, crossing her arms across her chest and thinking he had no way to prove
something like that.

Harry sighed deeply. He knew her logical thinking would make her refuse the idea until she could
have some tangible proof. “Okay,” he said, putting his hand into his jacket’s inner pocket. Without
hesitation, Harry took out what he expected would convince Hermione he was telling the truth. “You
see this,” he said, waving a long, thin piece of wood before her eyes.

“Is that…” she started

“It’s my wand,” Harry interrupted.

He extended his hands out, so Hermione could look at it closely. But she didn’t move forward or
made any effort to touch it. She simply looked questioningly at it, not finding anything special in
that piece of wood that would indicate it to be a magical artifact.

To show her once and for all that he was telling the truth, Harry headed to some wild flowers
that bloomed at the foot of a tree. He glanced at Hermione, making sure she was watching. Then, he
touched one of the lilac flowers with the tip of his wand, murmuring an incantation under his
breath.

Before Hermione’s amazed eyes, the flower transfigured into a butterfly that quickly flew away.
Hermione stared open-mouthed as the tiny butterfly flew out of sight. She turned to Harry, her
mouth still hanging open.

“Remember what your mother used to tell you about magic?” he asked, taking one step towards her.
“She was right. There’s magic – real magic – all around us. And she knew that,” he said as he stood
next to her. “…because she had it in her.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering what Harry meant. But she didn’t voice her thoughts.

Placing a hand on her shoulder and looking into her eyes, Harry continued in a low voice, “She
had magic in her, Hermione. She was a witch.”

Hermione shook her head for a while. “You’ve got to be kidding!” she finally managed to say.
“She… how can you say that? You didn’t even know her?”

“I didn’t,” he agreed. “But I know someone who did. That’s who I was talking to in the
fireplace.”

“So, what I saw was real?” she asked tentatively.

Harry smiled, remembering the first time that he had seen Mrs. Weasley talking to someone in the
fireplace. He had also been surprised by that, even thought he had already gotten used to magic.
Even to this day, there were still things in the magic world that amazed him. He could totally
understand Hermione feeling taken aback by such unexpected thing.

“That’s one of the ways we communicate with other wizards. We have other means, but… I reckon we
can talk about that later,” he said after a while.

Hermione took a few steps away from Harry, thinking about the information he was giving her. Her
mother, a witch? That could not be possible. Hermione would’ve noticed anything out of the
ordinary, right? But Hermione’s mother had always acted like a normal, regular person.

Seeing the confusion reflected in her expression, Harry placed a hand on her arm. His touch took
Hermione out of her reverie.

“You must have the wrong person, Harry,” she said. “I mean, I’m not actually saying that I
believe this magic… thing. But even if it were true, my mother was an ordinary person. She couldn’t
have been what you said.”

“Listen, I know what I’m telling you,” he replied. “Professor McGonagall, who I was talking to
in the fireplace, knew her from school. She met your mum at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry. That’s the same school I went to. McGonagall even told me your mum’s name, Marie
Vaughn.”

Hermione’s heart fell to her stomach when she heard her mother’s name. She searched her brain,
tying to remember if she had mentioned it to Harry – although she already knew she hadn’t.

“Could this be possible?” she whispered, talking more to herself than to Harry.

“That’s not all,” Harry said suddenly. “There’s something else you need to know.”

Hermione looked expectantly at him. What else could there be? Hearing about a part of her
mother’s life she would’ve never suspected existed was already too much to swallow.

“Your mum passed on her magic… to you,” he said softly. Hermione stared at him for a while
without showing any reaction. Afraid she had not heard him, Harry tried again, “You got it as well,
Hermione. You’re a witch.”

Hermione made a disbelieving sound, staring at him. Deep down, she was expecting Harry to say it
was all a big joke. She even waited silently for a while to give him the opportunity to end the
prank. But Harry didn’t say anything to deny it.

“This is not possible,” she finally said when she couldn’t take his silence any longer.

“Think about it, Hermione. It makes sense. I know you can make things happen. Haven’t you ever
asked yourself why?”

Hermione looked away, remembering several incidents in which things had happened without
explanation. Most of them were minor things she had quickly disregarded. Lately, though, those
incidents seemed to have increased in occurrence and in strength. Perhaps Harry was right.

She had always convinced herself that those incidents were nothing but coincidences.
Nevertheless, how often could that be a logical explanation? Luck couldn’t always be on her side,
could it?

Harry was paying close attention to her reactions, hoping to see acceptance in her face. “I felt
the same way when I was told I was a wizard,” he said. Hermione pushed her thoughts aside to listen
to him. “I was just 11. I reckon it’s easier to believe in magic when you’re younger. I’m asking
you to believe, too.” He took one of her hands in his. “I swear to you, Hermione. This is
real.”

“So, you’re saying that those instances when unexplainable things happened around me… it was me
all along?” she said in a soft voice, afraid to voice it out. “Couldn’t it be simple
coincidences?”

Harry took a step closer. “Do you honestly believe there could be so many coincidences? I saw
what you did: the truck moving on its own, the trashcans suddenly falling. Those were not
accidents.”

“I can’t believe this,” she said after a while. “I always had this feeling that somehow it was
me, but I didn’t want to accept that there was anything wrong with me.”

Harry quickly closed the distance between them and cupped her face with his hands, making her
look up at him. “There’s nothing wrong with you. This is not a disease. It’s a gift! There’s a
whole world out there that you belong to and that has been waiting for you.”

Hermione smiled shyly. A whole world? She was not sure whether she wanted to hear about that new
world just yet. She first needed to make peace with her self and accept that she was different.

“But don’t worry,” he said, sensing her doubts. “I’m going to be there with you, every step of
the way. I’m going to help you learn everything you need to know.”

She nodded at him in agreement but remained silent. Harry closed his arms around her and brought
her closer to him. She buried her face in his chest and tried to push her thoughts aside. There was
only one thing she was sure of: having Harry at her side gave her comfort and the confidence to go
on.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” she asked without raising her head.

“I wanted to confirm my suspicion first. I couldn’t talk to you until I was completely sure,” he
replied, gently stroking her hair.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” she asked, looking up at him. “You’re not hiding
anything else from me, are you?”

Harry looked at her brown eyes. There was one more thing he needed to tell her. He could confess
to her at that moment that he had been hired to protect her. But he couldn’t bring himself to say
it. Gently, he placed a hand on her head and made her resume the embrace.

“Trust me,” he whispered in her ear. “Everything will be fine.”

…………………………………

About an hour later, Harry and Hermione walked back to the house. Angela already had placed
their breakfast on the table, waiting for them. Keith smiled widely as the couple sat at the table.
Harry decided not to mention to them that Hermione was not a simple Muggle, after all. He wanted to
give her some time to get used to the idea.

“Have some breakfast,” Angela said, beckoning for them to serve themselves. “Keith will drive
you to town, so you two can take a bus to Chicago.”

“But,” Harry started to say.

“We know you have no money,” Angela quickly interrupted him. “We’ll lend you enough to buy the
tickets.”

“We can’t accept that,” Hermione intervened.

“You sure can,” she replied. “We’re more than happy to help you. Besides, knowing you two has
already been a great pleasure,” she added, giving Harry a significant look.

Harry smiled at her. “It’s quite generous of you. Please, let me know if there’s anything we
could do for you.”

Keith and Angela looked at each other for a while. “Well, there’s one thing,” Keith said
tentatively. He walked over to a cabinet and took a camera that had been sitting on the counter.
“Would you mind?” he said, showing the camera to them. “Could we take a picture?”

“Sure,” Harry finally said, a broad smile on his face.

The Nathans took the opportunity to take several photos of the famous Harry Potter. After they
enjoyed their breakfast, Keith and Angela drove them to town.

……………………………………….

Two days after Harry and Hermione had left New York City, they arrived in Chicago. They were
totally grateful to the Nathans. They had paid for their bus tickets and given then a few extra
dollars to pay a taxi. The sun was shinning brightly when Hermione steeped out of the bus. She
thought that was a good sign.

“We’re finally here,” said Harry as he stood next to her, giving her a warm smile. “So, do you
know where your friend lives? What was her name again?”

“Cynthia,” Hermione replied as they walked down the street. “I don’t remember her address, but…
There!” she pointed to a phone booth. “Let’s find out.”

They reached the booth and Hermione quickly grabbed hold of the directory hanging to the side of
the booth. “Let’s see,” Hermione said under her breath as she run a finger down the page.
“Reynolds… Here! This is it.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Totally,” she replied.

Immediately after that, she grabbed Harry’s hands and pulled him firmly. They walked to the edge
of the sidewalk and called a taxi. Once they were in the backseat, Hermione gave the driver
Cynthia’s address.

As the taxi drove them through the city, Hermione was eagerly taking it all in. She could hardly
wait until Cynthia could show her around. She had already spotted a few places she wanted to see
and a few stores she wanted to shop in.

Eventually, the driver took them towards the city limits and into a nice suburban neighborhood.
Nicely landscaped grounds surrounded the elegant houses and luxury cars were parked on the
driveways.

“No wonder they were able to send their daughter to a boarding school in Europe,” Harry said,
looking at the neighborhood.

Hermione smiled at him. She was about to respond when the driver pulled over. He parked in front
of one of the nicest houses in the block. It was surrounded by a tall iron gate that – fortunately
– was open.

Harry quickly paid the driver and followed Hermione out of the car. They stood on the sidewalk
for a while, staring at the big house. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, smiling at him. She placed
one of her hands in his and was about to pull him forward when Harry’s mobile phone rang.

“Hey! It works,” Hermione said, letting go of Harry’s hand.

“It does,” Harry said in a low voice. He could almost bet who it was. Giving Hermione a shaking
smile, he took out his phone only to confirm his suspicion. It was Parker.

“Why don’t you go knock,” he said to Hermione. “Let me get this call, and I’ll be there in a
minute.”

“Sure,” she said. Before walking away, she placed a quick kiss on his lips.

Feeling like she was walking on clouds, she headed to the main door. When she reached it, she
immediately sounded the doorbell. As she was waiting for someone to open, she glanced at Harry. He
was still on the phone, and by his expression, he seemed to be arguing with whoever had called him.
She didn’t have much time to wonder about it as an old lady dressed with a maid’s uniform greeted
her.

“Hi,” Hermione replied. “Is Cynthia home?”

“Ms. Reynolds?” the maid asked. “She’s not home right now, Miss.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Hermione asked, hoping her friend wouldn’t take too long to
return home.

“Oh, dear!” the woman said, shaking her head and giving Hermione an apologetic look. “She won’t
be home for two weeks. She and her parents are on vacation in the Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas?” Hermione repeated as a wave of disappointment rushed over her. She mumbled a
quick ‘thank you’ to the lady and headed back to where Harry was. She could not believe it. They
had come all this way for nothing. Cynthia was out of town. Hell, she wasn’t even in the continent!
Sighing resignedly, she shook her head.

Harry was standing with his back to her. Wanting to give him some space to end his call, she
remained a few steps away, although she could still hear him clearly.

“I’m tired, too,” she heard him say in an upset tone. “Just give me a few hours, okay? I’ll call
you later and tell you where we are so you can come and get Hermione. Then we can all go home.”

Hermione’s eyes opened wide. What was he talking about? Better said, who was he talking to?
Several wild ideas rushed through her mind at once. Not knowing whether to run away from him or
demand an explanation, she remained rooted to the ground.

Just then, Harry turned around to see Hermione standing behind him. Her expression of shock told
him she had listened to the conversation. “Call you later,” he said just before hanging up.

“Hermione,” he said, taking a step towards her.

But Hermione took a step away, avoiding his contact. “Who were you talking to?”

“I can explain everything,” he started, but quickly fell silent. He was sad to see that the
happy look on her face when they had arrived to Chicago was long gone. A shocked and even afraid
expression had replaced it.

“I’m waiting,” she said in a firm and cold voice.

Harry sighed. There was no way around it. He had no other choice but to tell her the truth. “It
was Parker,” he said, looking at his shoes.

“Parker?” Hermione repeated incredulously.

“Yes. He’s been trying to find us since the moment we left New York. I was supposed to inform
him where we were.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly, not sure she understood what he meant. “Who are you?” she
asked after a while.

“I’m… I was hired by your father to protect you. He was worried about your safety in this
country, and he wanted to have extra security in place. I was to look after you without you knowing
it. He decided to give you some controlled liberty and ordered me not to tell you who I was.”

Hermione shook her head, refusing to accept his explanation. “No. I… I met you outside the club.
You were just…”

“I was waiting for you,” he interrupted. “I was supposed to stop you and turn you in to your
agents, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated to see them treat you like a criminal.”

Hermione passed a shaky hand through her forehead. “I can’t believe this,” she said, walking
away from Harry.

Harry walked up to her and placed a hand on her arm. “I couldn’t tell you anything. Your
father…” he started. But Hermione quickly moved away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” she spat at him. “I don’t care about what my father did. It’s not the first
time that he’s shown no at all trust in me. But you… you lied to me.”

Harry looked down for a while. He understood how she was feeling. But he was also angry at
himself. He could’ve taken the opportunity to tell her everything the night before when Hermione
asked him if there was anything else she should know.

“You gained my trust and made me believe you liked me,” she continued in a hurt voice.
“Everything you said to me… it was all a lie. And to think I almost…”

“No,” Harry quickly interrupted her. “Not all of it…”

“I don’t believe you!” Harry tried to grab her hand, but she avoided the contact. “Stay away
from me,” she said in a serious tone. I don’t want to see you ever again.” She took a couple steps
away, but quickly realized she had nowhere to go. Remembering Harry’s phone was working again, she
turned to him. “May I borrow your phone?” she said in a cold polite way. To Harry, it hurt more
than a slap on the face.

He extended the phone out to her. Without taking one step closer, she grabbed it from his hands
in a quick movement. She immediately dialed Parker’s number.

“Maurice?” she said once he answered. “Can you come get me? I wanna go home.”



12. Back Home
-------------

*A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to update, things got a little crazy for me. Anyways,
here’s the next installment with a special appearance by one of our favorite redheads
around.*

*Hope you all enjoy it!*

*……………………………………………………………*

12. Back Home

Dragging his tired, long feet, Ronald Weasley arrived home from practice. The life of a
professional Quidditch player was wonderful, but those demanding practices were a murder. Although,
he had to admit the advantages of his career were worth it. He had lots of girls, a handsome pay,
lots of girls, his face appeared on Quidditch magazines regularly, lots of girls, constant
traveling… oh! And did I mention lots of girls?

Yeah, life was good!

On top of that, he shared a house with the person he had called his best mate since they were
11, Harry Potter. They had been together through thick and thin, and they had quite a lot of fun
stories to tell. But Harry had not been a fun person to be around lately – to be exact, since he
came back from his special assignment in America a week ago.

Ron shook his head as he walked into the kitchen. Several empty firewhisky bottles sat on the
table. Most likely, Harry was – once again – passed out in his bedroom. So, Ron headed in that
direction.

He could not believe that Harry would let himself go just because of one girl – emphasis on one.
To him, it was ridiculously-bloody-unbelievable to see that the famous Boy-Who-Lived, the Savoir of
the Wizarding World had been defeated – metaphorically speaking – by a girl.

The redheaded wizard, still wearing his Quidditch robes, stood at Harry’s door and knocked.
Getting no response, he opened the door and found – just as he had suspected – the unconscious body
of his roommate, lying face down on his bed. Ron walked up to the bed and firmly shook Harry’s
shoulder. “Hey,” he said.

Ron heard some weird grunt that sounded like ‘bugger off.’

“C’mon, mate! Wake up!” Ron insisted as he continued to shake Harry.

Finally, Harry turned around, giving Ron an angry look. “What?”

“How long are you planning to keep this up?” Ron asked, returning the angry look. “It’s already
been a week! I mean, c’mon. Get over it! There’re lots of other great-looking chicks out there, you
know? I know a few that wouldn’t mind shagging that depressed expression off your face.”

“Ron,” Harry started to complain as he sat up and held his head in his hands. “I don’t want to
hear it.”

“You are going to hear it, mate,” Ron quickly added. “I don’t understand what that witch gave
you - and I don’t mean that in a good way. This isn’t you! We don’t do any of that romantic shit.
We have fun. We fool around. We don’t let ourselves go just because a stupid little slut turned us
down.”

“Hey,” said Harry, quickly getting up and pointing a finger at Ron. “Don’t call her that, okay?
Besides, I told you it was all my fault.”

“Stop beating yourself up about it, man! She should’ve understood you couldn’t say a thing.
Doesn’t she know what ‘*follow your boss’s orders’* means?” But before Harry could respond to
him, Ron continued talking. “Oh no, no! Little miss perfect doesn’t know what it is to have a
fucking boss, does she?

“Ron, will you stop it?” said Harry, walking away from him and heading to the window.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?” Ron asked, changing his tone.

Harry remained silent for a while. Then, he turned to face his friend. “I care for her, Ron,
more than I ever did for anybody else.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at that. “You’ve only known her for a few days! How can you care so
much? You had never seen her before. And… she obviously doesn’t care about you. She let you go just
like that!”

“She was mad at me. She was really upset,” Harry continued in a low voice. He then turned back
to the window and stood there quietly.

After a few silent seconds went by, Ron spoke again. “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had it with your
emotional constipation!” Hearing Ron’s upset tone, Harry looked at him. “I can’t take this bullshit
anymore! Will you just go talk to her so I can go back to enjoying my life?”

“Excuse me,” Harry said, amused by Ron’s words. “I never thought my emotional problems troubled
you.”

“It’s not that I don’t like getting pissed with you, mate,” Ron responded after a deep breath.
“It’s that you’re getting so fuckingly boring!”

Harry smiled at his friend and slapped him in the arm. “Perhaps you’re right. I should talk to
her,” Harry said, passing a hand through his messier-than-ever hair. “After all, a week has already
gone by. Perhaps she’s ready to listen to me now.”

Ron shrugged his shoulders. Then, he saw Harry taking a clean shirt out of a dresser. “Hey,
mate,” he quickly said. “You may want to shower first. If you want her to say yes, that is.”

Harry smiled at him. “Thanks, man,” he said, stretching his hand out to Ron.

Ron grabbed hold of his hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled Harry towards him and placed
his free arm over Harry’s shoulders, slapping him hard on the back. Being that close to him, Ron
shut his eyes tightly as a wave of sweat, alcohol, and morning breath crashed into him.

“Go!” Ron said, stepping away from Harry. “You really need that shower.”

………………………………………………

Hermione was in no better state than Harry. She had, however, continued her daily shower
routine, and she was not trying to drown her pain with alcohol. But, she had isolated herself from
everybody.

Feeling a bit resentful with her dad and not wanting to see him, or anybody else that could feel
pity for her, Hermione had left Number 10 Downing St. She had sought refuge and comfort in the
house she had shared with her parents during her childhood. The house her mother had lived in.

Located in an upper-class neighborhood, the house had been locked up since Hermione and her
father moved in to Number 10. Mr. Granger’s intention had always been to sale the house. The only
reason he hadn’t already done so was because of Hermione’s strong desire to keep it. That house
held many memories of the happy years she spent at her mother’s side.

Hoping those memories would help her feel better, Hermione told her father she’d be staying
there for a few days. Not wanting to upset her even more, Mr. Granger had agreed to keeping the
agents at a low key – although the house maids had been told to keep an eye on her. In return,
Hermione had agreed not to perform another disappearing act as she’d done in New York.

Resembling a ghost, Hermione walked around her old house, looking for every little detail that
could make her feel close to her mother’s presence. She wanted to keep her mind busy with happy
memories. She didn’t want to think about what had happened to her just days ago.

She had felt, for the first time in her life, that someone cared about her – the real Hermione,
not the Prime Minister’s daughter. Sure, everyone around her had always been nice to her. Knowing
they were all her father’s employees diminished that fact. It had been devastating to find out that
her father had also paid HIM.

Had Harry also been instructed to ‘entertain’ her – to kiss her, to make her fall in love with
him? Regardless of how much she wanted to deny her feelings for Harry, she had fallen for him.
Thus, it hurt even more to know it had been a big lie.

He had lied to her in the cruelest way. He made her believe that something wonderful could
happen between them, that there may be a bright future ahead. And the thing he had said about
Hermione’s mother… She now was completely sure it had also been a lie. Trying to charm her with a
fascinating story, he had made the whole thing up. He had dared mess with her mother’s memory, and
that angered Hermione even more.

But the anger was quickly replaced by a deepest sense of disappointment.

That afternoon, Hermione was in the bedroom her mother had occupied. Everything around it was
exactly the same as it was on the last day she had been there. All of her personal belongings were
still scattered around the room. Hermione had begged her father to leave the room intact as a
tribute to her mother.

Hermione ran a finger over the nicely arranged items on top of the mirrored vanity. A black
wooden jewelry box sat right next to a bottle of perfume. Hermione opened the box, wanting to hear
the beautiful tune it played.

Hermione quickly spotted one of her mother’s favorite pieces of jewelry: a pearl necklace.
Besides the pearls, the box contained Hermione’s mum’s wedding ring, a brown, short curl of hair
tied with a pink ribbon – definitely Hermione’s – and a golden key, among other things.

Hermione grabbed the key and looked curiously at it. She scanned the room, trying to guess what
it belonged to. Suddenly, she remembered something. Hurriedly, she walked out of the room and down
the hall. She stopped at the foot of a narrow stairway that led to the attic.

Resolutely, she walked up the stairs and stepped into the dimly lit room. Hermione was used to
its semi-darkness. She had been in that room many times as a girl: hiding from her father during
one of his dinner parties, pretending to be a princess locked up in a castle’s tower, or just
reading when she didn’t want to be disturbed.

She walked with confidence towards the back. Knowing perfectly well where everything sat, even
when the small window didn’t provide enough illumination, she never tripped. She stopped next to an
old trunk that rested underneath a thick blanket of dust.

Just as Hermione had suspected, the key fit perfectly into the trunk’s keyhole. She opened it,
coughing lightly as some of the dust got into her throat. Hermione’s hands were sweating with
expectation. As a girl, she had always wondered what wonderful items could rest inside the
trunk.

The first thing Hermione saw was a black garment, resting on top of everything else. Hermione
took it out and unfolded it. It was a long, faded cloak with a crest embroidered on a side: a lion
with a red and gold shield on the background.

Hermione placed it aside and looked at the other items. Several books lay inside the trunk. She
grabbed one of them and read the cover, *Hogwarts: A History*.

Hermione’s heartbeat accelerated. She remembered that was the name of the school Harry had
talked about. Swallowing hard, she opened the book at a random page and eagerly read some
lines.

*“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded more than a thousand years ago by
four of the greatest wizards and witches of the age: Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric
Gryffindor, and Salazar Slytherin.”*

Hermione’s eyes took in the words avidly. She quickly flipped through the book and read several
passages about this magical school. Hermione could not believe it. She closed the book and dropped
it aside to look at the other books inside the trunk.

Titles like: *An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe*, *Advance Potion Making*,
and *Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions* stood out.

Could it be possible? Could someone have placed those items with the specific purpose of fooling
her? Hermione shook her head, knowing that was not possible.

Just then, one leather-bound book called her attention. She grabbed hold of it and, took a deep
breath, and opened it. It was a photo album. Hermione looked at a picture of two young ladies,
sitting at a stone bench, happily waving at Hermione.

Hermione’s mouth fell open as she realized the people in the pictures were moving. It looked
like a short video recording, but they were pictures. Hermione even flipped the page and looked at
the back to make sure there was nothing underneath creating the effect. But all she found were more
pictures.

Hermione passed a shaky hand on her sweaty forehead. She looked closely at the pictures and
noticed her mother was wearing the same cloak she had taken out of the trunk. All the kids in the
pictures were wearing similar cloaks, although a few sported a different crest.

Those were pictures of Hermione’s mother with her friends at school – the magic school. There
was no other explanation. Still, Hermione needed someone else to confirm it was actually real.
Placing a couple of the books in her arms, she stormed out of the room.

………………………………………

About an hour later, Hermione walked into her father’s office without even knocking. She didn’t
care that her father seemed to be in the middle of a meeting with some of his staff. “We need to
talk,” she said in a firm voice.

Mr. Granger looked at her for a while from behind his desk. Sensing this had to be a serious
matter, he turned to the two men sitting before him. “Would you mind, gentlemen?” After they left,
he stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing up that whole ‘I don’t trust you’ speech again, are
you?”

Not responding to his question, Hermione walked up to his desk and placed the books on top with
a loud thump. “Do you know what these are?” she asked, looking at him in the eye.

For a few seconds, Mr. Granger’s face twisted in shock. But he quickly regained his cold
posture, raising his chin defiantly.

His reaction was more than clear to Hermione. “You knew…”

“Where did you find that?” her father interrupted.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Harry’s words were replaying in her head. He
had been telling the truth. “Does it really matter where I found them?” she asked. “The fact is I
know.”

“You don’t know anything,” he quickly replied. “Your mother… she, uh, had a condition.”

“Don’t you dare!” she spat at him. “Do not speak about her like that. She didn’t have a
‘condition,’ as you call it. And she definitely was not insane, if that’s what you implied. This is
not a hallucination,” she added, lifting one of the books up to his eye level.

“I don’t know what you were told,” he stuttered.

But Hermione didn’t let him finish. “The truth,” she said. “I was told about my mum’s gift.”
Seeing her father’s mocking expression, she added. “Yes, Dad. It is a gift, not a disease. My
mother was a …”

“Don’t say that word!” he quickly interrupted. Not being bale to keep his cold posture any
longer, he walked around the desk and stood next to Hermione. Placing both hands on Hermione’s
shoulders, he said, “You don’t know what you’re saying. Your mother… I loved her, but…”

“No buts, Dad,” she said as she gently pushed him away. “I want to know why you kept this from
me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

The Minister looked away. He took a few steps away from Hermione, looking for an answer. “You
don’t understand,” he said after a while. “She told me about… that a few weeks after our engagement
had been announced. What was I to do? I loved her, but… I couldn’t deal with something like
that.”

Hermione followed him with her eyes as he paced around the room, remembering the days when his
late wife revealed her biggest secret to him.

“I told her,” her continued. “She knew what my plans were. She knew I had a career ahead of me.
She had to choose. The wife of a politician can’t go around making magic tricks.” He then turned
around to face his daughter. “It was her decision. She left it all behind, but I didn’t force
her.”

“Of course she did,” Hermione said, softly shaking her head. “She loved you so much that she was
willing to leave everything for you. She was willing to sacrifice herself and forget who she was
just to make you happy. But I can’t ask you to understand that. You don’t know what it means to
love someone else more than yourself.”

“Hermione…” He tried to grab her hand, but Hermione stepped back.

“You would never be able to do something like that. You don’t know anything about
sacrifices.”

“You have to understand,” he tried to say.

“But that’s alright,” she continued, not paying attention to his words. “Now I know who my
mother was, and I understand what she did.” She grabbed the books from her father’s desk. “And
there’s something else you should know,” she added. “She passed her gift on to me. I am a witch,
Dad.”

Mr. Granger’s eyes were wide open as he looked at his daughter from head to toe, trying to find
something different in her.

“But don’t worry,” Hermione continued. “I know how it goes. The daughter of a politician can’t
go around making magic tricks, right? So, I’m going to make things easy for you. I’m not going to
ruin your career. I’m leaving,” she said, looking right into his eyes. “I can’t deny who I am. I
can’t sacrifice myself like my mother did. She had to hide who she really was, and I’m going to
honor her by doing the one thing she didn’t: be myself… away from you.”

Right after that, Hermione turned around and walked out of the office, hoping her father
wouldn’t see a rebel tear that had escaped from her eyes.

Wanting to put as much distance between them as she could, Hermione ran out the house she had
occupied with her father for the last years. She walked out, leaving behind all her belongings. She
didn’t need, or care about, all that stuff.

Hermione kept running until her legs almost gave up. Her feet had guided her to a park. She
reached a stone bench and sat down. Trying to normalize her breathing and making an effort to hold
her tears, she took long deep breaths.

It was true; it was all real. She still couldn’t believe how selfish her father had been,
forcing her mother to forget who she was and become someone else. She may have done it willingly,
but she’d only done it because she saw no other choice. If she hadn’t given up her magic, Hermione
was sure her father wouldn’t have married her.

Along with the anger and resentment Hermione was feeling at the time, she was also feeling
guilty. Harry had told her the truth about her mother, and she had pushed him away. This past week,
she had been trying to convince herself that he had made the whole thing up.

She now felt bad, knowing he had been right all along.

Suddenly, Hermione heard the breaking of a twig and turned around expecting to see someone
walking towards her. But there was no one on sight.

Hermione closed her eyes, sighing deeply. What if everything else Harry had told her was also
true? What if he really cared about her? She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and
burying her head in her arms. “*Could it be possible?*” she thought. “*And to think that I
pushed him away because I didn’t trust him*.”

Without realizing it, Harry’s name escaped from her mouth in a whisper.

Just then, Hermione felt a presence next to her. Although her eyes were closed, she could feel
the warmth of a body and even hear his/her breathing. Someone was sitting by her side. Hermione
opened her eyes to find the person she had been thinking about: Harry.

Smiling warmly at her and without saying a word, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione
threw herself at him and buried her face in his chest. All the emotions she had been trying to
ignore during the past days – and, more recently, after talking to her father – hit her at once.
The tears she had kept at bay ran freely as Harry encircled her in his arms.

He allowed her some silent moments while stroking her hair soothingly. When her sobs stopped, he
gently pushed her away to look at her. Cupping her face with his hands, he dried her cheeks with
his thumbs.

“He knew,” Hermione said after she cleared her throat. “He knew it all.”

Knowing perfectly well what she meant by that, Harry sighed. He let go of her face and grabbed
hold of her hands instead. “Did you talk to him?” he asked. After Hermione nodded her head in
agreement, he continued, “What did he say to you?”

She explained to Harry what her father had said when she confronted him. Harry listened
attentively to her words.

“What upsets me the most is that he kept all that from me,” she said. “Did he really think that
I would never find out?”

“What made you talk to him about it?” he asked.

“I found a trunk in the attic at our old house. It’s full of my mum’s school things,” she
responded. “Books and some… moving pictures.” Harry smiled at that. “I realized you had told me the
truth about my mother, and I wanted to hear it from him.”

“Do you reckon that’s why he changed your name?” he asked her.

Hermione looked at him with wide-open eyes. “How do you know he changed my name?”

“Professor McGonagall told me – the same person who told me about your mum being a witch. She
found out that your name had been changed just before your eleventh birthday,” he replied.

Hermione nodded, but her expression still showed confusion. “I still don’t understand…”

“You see, the eleventh birthday is kind of important for a kid with magical skills,” he
interrupted. “You must be at least 11 years old to be admitted into Hogwarts. Acceptance letters
are sent out to everyone around their birthdates.”

Hermione tried to remember the days around her eleventh birthday, but the state of shock she had
been after her mother’s death made a blur of all her memories. Harry, guessing what she was doing,
continued talking, “Your letter was never sent. After the accident, your name was crossed off the
list. They thought you had also died in the accident.”

Hermione looked down. “I wished I was dead since the moment I woke up in the hospital,” she said
in a soft voice.

Seeing a trace of sadness in her brown eyes, Harry pulled her closer to him and encircled his
arms around her. Hermione didn’t resist. It felt comforting to have him there. As his manly scent
invaded her senses, a question came to her mind.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, pulling back just enough to see his face.

“Thanks to that,” he said, pointing at the heart pendant/locator that still hung from her
neck.

“This?” she asked, placing a protective hand over the necklace. “What does my mum’s pendant have
to do with it?”

“Your mum’s?” he repeated.

“Yes, my mum’s,” she continued. “My dad gave it to me just before we flew to America.”

Harry shook his head. It angered him to see that Mr. Granger had used such excuse to give the
jewel to Hermione, and it broke his heart to disappoint her by telling her the truth.

Hermione was looking expectantly at Harry, waiting for him to talk.

He grabbed her hand and caressed it gently. “It wasn’t your mum’s,” he finally said. “It’s a
magical locator. It pinpoints your location. It was given to your father so I could easily find you
anywhere you’d be in America. That’s how I got to the club in New York.”

Harry inhaled deeply. They were now stepping onto sensitive ground – surely this would remind
Hermione that she was upset with him. Hermione nodded silently, looking pensively at the shiny
heart.

“You can take it off now, if you want,” Harry said in a barely audible voice.

Hermione looked into his green eyes and found remorse. She smiled warmly at him. “I don’t want
to take it off because it brought you to me.”

“Hermione, I’m…” he tried to say, but Hermione’s mouth over his stopped him from speaking. She
kissed his lips with such intensity that when they pulled apart, they were panting for breath.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” she said after a while. “I offered you my heart, but I
pushed you away at the first sign of trouble.”

Harry smiled at that. He hadn’t been wrong the moment he decided Hermione would be the one
person he would devote his life to. She had doubted, but it was a human reaction to shield one’s
heart and try to keep it from harm. Knowing that no words would be enough to express what he was
feeling at that moment, Harry pulled her back into a kiss to show her with actions how much he
cared for her.